


Of Sunflowers and Chrysanthemums

by TheWritersCottage



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Fantasy, Horror, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Post-Canon, Suspense, Vengeful Spirits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 42,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritersCottage/pseuds/TheWritersCottage
Summary: The war ended years ago, and a new era of peace and prosperity is beginning to take shape. But more than just the political landscape has changed. The anniversary of Iroh's passing approaches, and Zuko's grief weighs heavy on him.Aang hopes to gather the gaang for a much-needed vacation to take things off Zuko's mind, but he's not sure he's ready to see Katara after having broken things off three years prior.Zuko and Aang set out to Itzayan, a tropical paradise on the northeastern peninsula of the Fire Nation. But before the gaang can reunite to enjoy their time together, Aang is attacked by a dark spirit. Bound to his duty as the Avatar, Aang is forced to face off with an ancient evil, and he can't afford to lose.
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 106
Kudos: 149





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is rated Mature due to the scenes around the haunting.

Dark grey clouds hung heavy in the sky as rain pelted the ground. Thunder rumbled above as though the heavens too were sobbing. 

The funeral had been a beautiful affair. All of Zuko’s loved ones were there. Ursa and Kiyi, Sokka, Katara and Toph. And of course, Aang. There had been great flower arrangements with hundreds of chrysanthemums. Some were braided into wreaths, others were in bouquets.

Zuko had kept a brave face for his people, managing to deliver his speech without choking on the lump in his throat.

But now, away from the eyes of the public, and the palace servants and guards, Fire Lord Zuko stood crying beneath the old tree where Lu Ten, and now Uncle Iroh, were buried. Uncle Iroh, the Great Dragon of the West, the man who had stood by Zuko, loved him like a father would a son, was gone. There had been a time when it seemed Uncle Iroh might live forever. Naively, Zuko had almost hoped he would. But after many long years, he finally laid his head to rest.

Silent tears streamed down his face as he prayed. He prayed Iroh could hear him now; hear how his heart broke for missing him, hear how much he loved him. Memories flooded Zuko’s mind, precious moments that would live on in his heart as long as he lived, and beyond. 

His shoulders shook as he finally allowed his sorrow to consume him.

A strong arm circled Zuko’s shoulders as Aang hugged him wordlessly. 

_I miss you, Uncle. This world isn’t the same without you._

  
  



	2. Itzayan

It had nearly been a year since Uncle Iroh had been laid to rest, and the anniversary of his passing weighed heavy on Zuko. The year had gone by in a blur, and he thanked the spirits that after eleven years since the end of the war, the Four Nations were prospering. However, a Fire Lord’s work is never done. The year had been filled with political events and meetings to solidify alliances, and to address the stubborn echoes of his father’s support that lived on. There were still organized groups who believed in the old ways. The world had moved too quickly for them to keep up, and Zuko felt for them. When his father was in power, and his grandfather before him, many Fire Nation people had been soldiers. It had been a viable career then, but with the development of technology, and a new focus on peace, many of those soldiers had been left disenfranchised. 

Understanding the problems his people faced, Zuko’s time and energy for the past five years was spent creating programs that would allow former soldiers, and other war-related tradesmen and women, to seek free education to train in modern skillsets. Industrialization was on the horizon, and minds of science, engineering and technology were needed as well as people who weren’t afraid to put in hours of arduous work.

Even so, the loyalist movement lived on. Smaller, quieter, but there. Especially among the older generation, who missed the absolute influence and power once held by the Fire Nation. 

Just after the war had ended, and Zuko was working with Aang to implement the Harmony Restoration Movement, there had been many more assassination attempts on Zuko’s life. But positive sentiment was starting to spread as a healthy middle class had begun to emerge. Entrepreneurs were starting businesses, and making comfortable livings. Opportunities abounded in towns and cities as they grew, and for the most part, crime rates were at an all-time low. 

Despite all there was to celebrate, the last year had diminished Zuko to a shell of himself. Every morning felt like a new battle he had to fight. At least when his uncle was alive, Zuko had found reprieve taking the odd few days to visit Ba Sing Se to see Iroh. His uncle’s company never failed to heal even the deepest of aches. Many of those visits included Aang’s company, who regularly came to the capital to attend the same meetings as Zuko. 

“Can you believe we’ve been friends for over a decade?” Aang had marveled once. 

But now with his uncle gone, Zuko lacked a place to go, and he missed hearing his uncle’s wisdom and humour. 

What was more, the demands of Zuko as Fire Lord had consumed his every waking hour, to the extent that he had neglected his personal life. Zuko had no romantic partner to share his free moments with, and that had been especially hard with his uncle gone.

A sharp rap interrupted his reverie as he lay in his four poster bed. He had been trying to inspire movement in his limbs for an hour since he had woken, but the motivation wasn’t there.

“My Lord, the Avatar is here to see you.” A steward said from the other side of the door.

Zuko felt himself smile. Aang’s presence couldn’t have come at a better time. Finally, he stood to dress himself.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zuko walked through the dark palace hallways past the floor-to-ceiling portraits of his forefathers, past the great hall and out into the gardens where he knew he would find Aang. 

The Avatar sat under the shade of a great old tree as he tossed feed to a little family of turtleducks. He looked up and beamed when he saw Zuko approaching.

“It’s always such a pleasure to see you, my friend.” Aang said, getting to his feet and hugging Zuko warmly.

“I feel the same. This is an unexpected visit. What brings you to the capital?”

Aang crossed his hands behind his head and grinned. “I thought you could use a vacation. I wanted to invite you to join me for a getaway in Itzayan for the next fortnight.”

Zuko felt warmth bubble up in him. He knew it was no coincidence that Aang happened to show up so close to the anniversary of Uncle Iroh’s passing, inviting him on a getaway.

“If you’re up for it, we can get the whole gang together, too. Sokka, Toph, Katara.”

It had been a long time since he had heard Aang suggest getting the whole group together in one place. He and Katara had ended things three years prior, and the break up had taken a toll on him. 

Zuko smiled. “You know what? Why not. A vacation would do me some good.”

“Great. Well, for starters I thought you and I could head out first. We can send messages to everyone else about the gathering once we’re there. When do you think you can be ready?”

“Give me a couple days to clean up my calendar. I’ll be ready to head out with you then.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days later, Aang was yip-yipping Appa to flight with Zuko sitting in the saddle behind him. He was relieved Zuko had agreed to the vacation. The man looked ill. He had dark bruises under his eyes, and his skin was sickly pale. Aang had noticed the deterioration over the course of the last six months especially. 

Aang had chosen their destination carefully - a beautiful peninsula right on the ocean with lush jungles, ancient ruins and natural caverns with warm water springs awaited them. Aang was excited to take Zuko to the local markets where vendors sold delicious fruit that was indigenous to the area, and the buildings were all painted different bright colors, according to the fancy of the owner. It was an enchanting place filled with magic, and Aang hoped it would be just the place to help his friend heal from what ailed him.

The thought of seeing Katara again pulled at his heartstrings. They had crossed paths in the last three years at political rallies involving the Southern Water Tribe, but they’d done little other than exchange polite pleasantries then. Aang reminded himself that this was for Zuko, and he knew that time with loved ones was always the best medicine for a hurting heart. 

“So tell me hotman, what’s new with you? No politics allowed.” Aang said to Zuko, grinning up at him over his shoulder.

Zuko had long given up fighting the nickname, knowing Aang’s pleasant determination couldn’t be beat.

“Let’s see… I’ve been developing some new fire bending techniques. Come to think of it, I had been meaning to ask if you might want to have a few sparring matches?”

“Absolutely! I’ve been feeling rusty, all politics and no bending means I have a bit of dust to shake off.”

“I know what you mean,” Zuko sighed, letting himself relax into the saddle. “I think you’ll appreciate the new moves I have. I developed them by watching you.”

“That’s really flattering.” Aang said, genuinely pleased. “You’re just like your uncle, Zuko. He’d be so proud of you.”

Aang had wanted to set aside a couple days for just the two of them to spend time together for exactly this. He wanted to make sure Zuko could feel safe to work through his grief. 

“Thanks Aang. It means a lot.”

The rest of the flight was spent with the friends catching up about the most recent atrocities produced by the Ember Island Players, discussing the emerging world of pro-bending, which Aang was particularly interested in, and so much more. Though it was a four hour flight, time seemed to sail right by.

“Whoa…” Aang heard Zuko breathe as they flew over the aquamarine waters leading to white sandy beaches and dense, verdant jungle. Giant trumpet-like flowers bloomed on vines as scores of fire butterflies fluttered from flower to flower, batting their intricate wings. Their patterns looked like stained glass windows and spanned a broad spectrum of whimsical colors. 

“Aang, this place is beautiful.”

“Just wait until we reach the place we’re staying.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aang hadn’t been kidding. Their accommodations were incredible. An ancient ruin that had been renovated to reflect its former glory stood majestically on a green cliffside overlooking their own private cavern. A number of stone steps formed the foundation of the structure, leading up to a beautiful stone building. Its walls were decorated with intricate carvings of lionturtles, dragons and other ancient beasts. Below, the sunlight refracted into all manner of mysterious shifting colours in the water’s depths. The sight was breathtaking.

“Last one in’s a lazy slothbear!” Zuko heard Aang yell as the airbender raced for the cliff, not a care in the world.

“Hey! You’ve got a head start!” Running now, Zuko fought to free himself of his shirt at the very least. And if Aang was playing dirty, he was too. He launched himself at his friend’s back, sending him tumbling to the ground. Nimbly, Zuko rolled to his feet and continued to run. He spared a glance back at Aang, who was laughing as he bent himself an air scooter. But Zuko had made it to the cliff, and he leapt.

He felt his stomach rise to greet his heart as he plummeted down into the shimmering waters. He whooped joyously as he fell, excitement welling up in his chest as he splashed through the water and down. Once under, he opened his eyes to marvel at the changing patterns of light against the surface. Aang’s body plunged through, sending the patterns rippling apart. 

Together they swam up for air.

“Oh, that NEVER gets old!” Aang gasped as he broke the surface. He breathed out through his nose and shook the water out of his eyes.

“How long have you known about this place?” Fire Lord though he was, and Fire Nation through and through, there were still hidden gems of his country he was learning about.

“I knew about this peninsula from when I was a kid. It was one of my destinations when I ran away. I only had a chance to come here for the first time a few years ago. It’s great, isn’t it?”

“It’s incredible.”

They spent what felt like an eternity just enjoying the water. Aang used his waterbending to create waves, and made ice boards for he and Zuko to ride. Having no practice surfing, it took Zuko a few wipe outs to eventually succeed at staying on the board as the waves carried him. After a few successful surfing sessions, Zuko was beginning to get hungry.

Contented and positively spent, the friends returned to their opulent accommodations and lit a fire at the base of the stone steps. They hung their clothes to dry by tying a line between the trunks of two trees nearby, and sat in their undergarments as they prepared dinner. 

Zuko cooked some fish he had brought from the palace, and offered Aang some sweet bread baked just for his trip. Aang accepted graciously, pulling out his own food. Aang made Appa a giant fruit platter and set a bale of hay next to it for him.

They shared fresh fruit and wine as they chatted the evening away. Before he knew it, Zuko was feeling just the slightest bit tipsy. He felt so light he thought he might float. 

“Aang, I can’t thank you enough.” He said earnestly. 

Sitting across from him, Aang smiled gently. The crackling fire casted shadows over his face, his arms, his shoulders and his chest.

“Zuko, I’m worried about you.” He admitted. “What’s going on?”

Looking into Aang’s earnest grey eyes, Zuko sighed.

“I’ve been feeling some of my depression creeping back.” He said calmly. “Since Uncle died, it’s been especially bad.”

Aang was quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“I miss him.” He said sadly. “This year without him has been harder on me than the year I was banished. At least he was with me then, though I was too hot-headed to appreciate him at the time.”

Zuko watched the fire crackle, and its happy warmth reminded him of Iroh. He closed his eyes, feeling comfort wash over him.

“I’m sorry, Zuko. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Zuko opened his eyes and gave Aang a bright smile. 

“You’re already doing more than enough. This is everything I never knew I needed. I’m looking forward to having everyone else here to share this with.”

Aang nodded with a smile of his own. “It’ll be great to have the old gang back together again.”

Zuko rested his forearms over his legs as he leaned forward, fixing Aang with his gaze.

“Oh no, I know that look.” Aang said, smiling mildly.

“Aang, how are you?”

He expelled a puff of air, lacing his fingers under his chin, but he kept his eyes on the fire.

“I’m alright. I really can’t complain too much. I find a new reason to be grateful every day. I have met so many incredible people over these last years, and I’ve made some new friends. I’ve visited new places like this one. After years of struggle, I finally have days when I’m not sure what to do with myself. It’s a new feeling, and sometimes I feel guilty for letting myself waste the day away. But it’s a gift to have a little peace of my own.”

Zuko could see the loneliness in Aang’s eyes, no matter how he tried to hide it under layers of charm and poise. Still, he didn’t press Aang for more. If he felt his journey needed to be one of healing through gratitude, then Zuko would gladly support him.

“I’m glad you’re finding ways to be happy, Aang.” He said gently.

“Thanks Zuko.” Aang exaggerated a yawn. “I don’t know about you, but I’m bushed. I’m going to get some sleep.” He stood, carrying his bedroll with him. Aang hadn’t used a bedroll in the past, but he wasn’t as young as he once was. His back needed the padding so he could get a restful sleep.

“Yeah, I could call it a night.”

They put out the fire and stored what was left of their food, and Aang craned his neck to look up at the sky.

“It’s a beautiful night. I know we have this amazing place to sleep, but it’d be a shame not to watch the stars.”

Zuko agreed, and the two set up their beds in the grass next to Appa. 

Zuko could see the stars so clearly that it seemed he could almost reach out and take them in his hand. Giving over to whimsy, he reached out one arm with his palm open to the sky.

“Catching stars?” 

“Seems that way.”

“What’re you gonna wish?”

“I’m going to wish for...more of what we did today.”

Aang chuckled. “I have a really good feeling about that coming true.”

Zuko lowered his arm to rest over his stomach and sighed with contentment.

“Goodnight, Aang.”

“G’night, Zuko.”


	3. In The Dark

Between life and death, it stirred. Suspended, a dead soul lie sleeping. 

The veil was lifting, and the deepest darkness took shape. A memory. Vague, uneasy. Something was transforming from within - like ripples in water. 

This wretched, horrible thing - it **_writhed_** , twisting with hate.

A _thing_ should not yearn. A _thing_ should not hate. This thing _should not be_. But it was. 

Spurred by an ancient rage, it stepped into a world it no longer belonged to. A world it was torn from.

Somewhere deep, knowledge took shape, like tendrils of smoke coming together in a cloud. A summons spurred it forward, like a dark beacon of terror.

_ The hunt had begun. _


	4. The Grudge

Well, this wasn’t the way Aang expected his morning meditation to go. He thought this as he stared at the mottled skin stretched over a silently screaming face - black mouth agape, and only one dark eye stretched wide, visible through a sheet of tangled black hair. A gurgle came from deep in the spectre’s throat. 

She had come from the thick jungle, silent as the grave. Aang had felt a shiver run down his spine as he came back to himself, knowing something was _coming._

Aang had seen many spirits during his life, but this… this physically _hurt_ to see. The spirit was in so much… pain. Its soul was twisted in knots that even Aaang wasn’t sure he could undo.

The dark, suffocating hatred emanating from the spirit made it easy for Aang to identify what he was up against - an onryō, better known as a vengeful spirit that died in extreme anguish.

“I had hoped to spend time with my friends,” Aang said sadly, “but you need me more.”

The spirit was down in a crouch with her limbs poised like spider’s legs. She barely appeared to be human anymore. Any moment she would strike. Aang readied himself.

Cloaked in the haze of dawn, the spectre _crawled_ forward, stalking Aang like prey. Aang stood firm, even as the darkness of her hatred consumed his mind. His eyes burned, as though assaulted by hot smoke. But there was no evident source.

Flinging his weight backward on his right leg, Aang used the momentum to kick up his left as he propelled a burst of air at the spectre. Somehow, it went right through her. Aang’s brows shot up to his forehead. But he still had three other elements at his disposal.

The gurgle was louder as she pulled herself closer, her neck craned up at him at an unnatural angle, and Aang could feel a lump forming in his throat. 

He now stood firm with both feet planted on the ground and punched out and up, bending the ground beneath the spectre to strike her off balance. She sailed up with the wall of earth, clinging to it easily. As the wall came to its highest point and stopped, the spectre was thrown into the sky, but she twisted in the air and used her fall to sail down at Aang, her black mouth gaping as though to devour him.

Not wasting any time, Aang leaned back on his left leg and pulled his right up and around in a round-house kick, blasting a hot arc of fire at her as she fell upon him. It was no use, she sailed right through. 

It was too late by the time Aang thought how he could use the water of the cavern to freeze her in place. Her twisted features were just inches from his own, her clawed fingers wrapped tightly around his neck, lifting him off the ground with supernatural strength. As she held him aloft, Aang _felt_ it. At first he struggled to keep his breath, but something besides her grip was draining him of his fight. Weakness started taking over his limbs as the life was _drawn out_ of him. It was like nothing Aang had felt before. He could feel himself being emptied, until he knew nothing more than hopelessness, sorrow and despair. Soon, his arms fell limp at his sides. A deep and dark corner of mind yearned for oblivion as his vision started to blur.

It was then that he heard his name, as though from somewhere very far away. A hollow echo rang in his ears.

“Aang!”

His knees hit the ground as the spectre dropped him. Now free, Aang’s eyes glowed as he opened them. Hundreds of years of wisdom flooded him, and he knew there was only one way to quell his enemy. 

Vaguely, Aang registered Zuko’s presence. Vaguely, he felt a tug of guilt as he realized he had to leave him behind to protect him.

With no time to spare, Aang catapulted his own spirit at the onryō, the power of the Avatar thrumming within him. He struggled as the mottled limbs reached for his chest, as though wanting to take his heart. Long tendril-like fingers clawed at him eagerly. Their souls battled for dominance, and Aang reached deep inside his mind to summon all his spiritual strength.

Aang’s spiritual energy roared to life as he enveloped his attacker in a cage of blue light. Angry gurgles echoed into the spiritual abyss as the onryō fought her confines, black blood starting to flow from her hateful eyes. Aang realized he was _afraid_. The hatred of this spirit was powerful, and Aang knew that if he lost now… 

“SPIRIT, I BID YOU TO BE STILL!” the Avatar yelled, throwing more of his will behind the words to contain the viscous black tendrils licking at the cage he held her in. On command, the tendrils dissipated, the spirit went motionless… and appeared almost to shrink.

Sparing a glance at his body slumped in the grass with Zuko kneeling over him, Aang opened the gate to the spirit world and brought the onryō through with him.

“I’m sorry, Zuko. I’ll be back soon.” He whispered as he left.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aang’s body was a horrible vision to behold. He was sprawled unceremoniously across the long grass with his head thrown back, his chin pointed at the sky, cloudy grey eyes open and unseeing. His mouth hung open, one arm flung out above him, and the other twisted at his side. He looked like a puppet with no master. Zuko swallowed as he reached down to place two fingers at Aang’s throat.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when he felt a pulse there. _He was alive._

Whatever had attacked them had gone, and apparently Aang’s spirit had gone with it. 

Cold fear strangled Zuko’s heart. What if Aang was still in danger? He had gone where no one could follow. 

Slipping strong arms under Aang’s shoulders and knees, Zuko pulled his body up and carried him back to their camp. He was greeted by a loud whine as Appa bounded over to sniff Aang's body. He grunted, pawing at the ground anxiously.

“He’s alive, buddy. It’s okay. He’s just in the spirit world.” Zuko said this as much to comfort Appa as himself.

The sky bison curled into himself, spreading out his tail for Zuko to climb. Once in the saddle, he laid Aang’s body down. Zuko had to suppress a shudder looking into Aang's unseeing grey eyes. Gently, he reached forward and closed his lids.

Clambering onto Appa’s head, Zuko took the reins.

“We’ll head into town to send hawks to everyone,” Zuko told Appa. “Yip yip!”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It hadn’t taken long for Zuko to be recognized by locals as the Fire Lord. In his haste, he hadn't thought to cover his face. He did have to fight a throng of people excited to see him, but he managed avoid being stalked too long - likely because he was in no mood to play diplomat. He was relieved at how quickly he was able to send out a couple hawks to the Southern Water Tribe and Ba Sing Se. Now all he could do was wait. 

Itzayan was right on the water on the northeastern end of the Fire Nation island. Zuko figured it would be at least a couple days before Sokka, Katara and Toph arrived. In the meantime, all he could do was sit tight.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aang had made it deep into the spirit world, pulling the onryō with him. 

Looking around, Aang realized this was a part of the spirit realm he hadn’t yet visited. A pale grey cast seemed to overwhelm everything here. Every colour was dull and muted. Holding out a hand in front of him, he saw the way his own skin and tattoos looked duller here. Even the usually bright colours of his robes were subdued.

“What is this place?” Aang asked aloud looking for somewhere to land. He soon spotted a grassy knoll dotted with naked trees, their branches cutting across the sky, jagged and angry.

Setting the captive spirit down gently on a bed of long grey grass that crunched beneath her, Aang took a seat to meditate.

“I know you don’t think so, but I’m trying to help you.” He told the onryō gently. Her body almost seemed petrified. Aang watched her for a long while.

Only once he felt confident that he was in no danger of being overtaken, Aang sat in a lotus position and called out to his former lives for guidance. 

“Hello young Avatar,” Roku said smiling. “I see you’re in quite a bit of trouble this time.”

Aang couldn’t help smiling back. “Yeah, you’d think the problems would get less severe over time. The Avatar’s work is never done.”

Roku chuckled. “Very true, Aang. It looks like it is not my experience you need, Aang. This spirit you carry with you seems very old. She is an ancient Fire Nation legend. I would call to Wang Xiu Ying. She should have the wisdom you seek.”

Aang nodded. “Thank you, Roku.”

Refocusing, Aang called out to the unfamiliar name. 

When Aang needed to delve further into his past to speak with older incarnations, he always felt his stomach drop as though he were in an elevator, descending quickly. As though below water, the ripples of an image began to materialize in his consciousness, and he felt his past life step out from him.

Opening his eyes, Aang faced a sharp-featured woman with her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her long robes were red and gold, with black floral embroidery. This was the first he’d seen her.

“Hello Aang, my name is Wang Xiu Ying. I was born in the Fire Nation four hundred years ago. What is it you seek?”

Aang bowed his head and pressed his right fist to the heel of his left palm. “It’s good to meet you Avatar Wang Xiu Ying. I’m hoping you can help me with my dilemma.” Aang simply gestured to the dark spirit trapped a few feet away.

Wang Xiu Ying turned to look, and when her eyes landed on the darkness before her, she frowned deeply.

“That poor girl…” She whispered.

Aang nodded solemnly. “Can you tell me how to help her?”

Wang Xiu Ying was silent for a moment.

“First you need to free her of the darkness. This won’t heal her, but at the very least she can be reasoned with. Typically the vengeance of a spirit like hers is triggered by something. There’s a reason she has returned to haunt the living now. I sense she is very old.”

Aang’s eyes lit up. “How do I free her of the darkness?” he asked eagerly.

“Let her tell her story.” Wang Xiu Ying said simply.

Aang blinked.

“I would like to, but how? She didn’t seem interested in talking…”

Wang Xiu Ying closed her eyes. “A spirit of vengeance is a taxing existence, even for an onryō as unfortunate as she. Look now, Avatar. You’ll notice that she is not so strong as she was when you met her first.”

Aang looked to the prison of light and noted that Wang Xiu Ying was right. The spirit almost appeared human again. Her skin was still mottled, her hair still tangled, her white robes stained with black blood from the day of her death. But the black rage that had surrounded her was gone.

Aang looked back at Wang Xiu Ying. “You’re right. It seems her energy has changed here.”

“Something woke her from her slumber, you must find out what that is. By bringing her here, you have removed the object of her desire. But beware, as soon as her trigger appears, her hatred will consume her once more.”

Holding Wang Xiu Ying’s gaze, Aang frowned. “And if I let her tell me her story, what will happen then?”

His past self smiled gently. “You must let her tell you what she needs. You can only do what you can to help ease her pain. By fulfilling her wishes, you should be able to set her human soul free of the bonds keeping her tethered in her half life. But be careful, Aang. Her spirit has roamed many a decade. In that time she has taken many lives. Treat her as though she were two people. You will need to extricate the girl from the ghoul, and that will not be easy.”

Aang had a sinking feeling he knew what she would say next.

“You will need to face the pure hatred of her grudge, and you will need to defeat it. Because she is not a thing of the world, she cannot be harmed with regular bending. Your spirit will be your only weapon. And even then, you may need to find other ways to bind her.”

This was going to be a long-term problem, Aang realized. 

“The vengeful dead were much more common in my time, and in those times there were those trained to exorcise the darkness. Since then, the traditions have faded. But you must find a spiritual guide to help you. Remain strong, young Avatar. The older the grudge, the stronger the evil. If you do succeed in putting her human soul to rest, the darkness in her will try to possess you. It will try to kill your own spirit to claim your body as its own. You must not let that happen.”

Aang felt himself shiver. “I understand. Thank you.”

“This is my wisdom for you, Aang. Heed it and succeed.”

Aang bowed again, and the image of his past life was gone.

As Aang considered the avice of his past life, he noted the slight dimness of his spirit - like a dampened flame. He'd felt weaker since being touched by the onryō, and he wondered if he would have the strength to face her now if she were to attack again. The first thing he needed to do was learn the spirit’s story, something he thought he could manage for a start. Aang only hoped she could be reasoned with.

“Well, here we go…” Aang said, craning his neck to look back at the captive spirit. Now alone, he allowed himself a shudder at this dark embodiment of death and decay. While death was a natural part of the cycle, this perversion rung his heart.

Getting to his feet, Aang approached cautiously.

“Spirit," he said gently. "I'm the Avatar, the Great Bridge between worlds…” he trailed off when the spirit didn’t stir. She just lay on her side with her back to him. Her long tangled ebony hair lay limply over her shoulder, splayed messily across her back and trailing on the ground.

Aang cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I have to keep you bound... I don't want to fight you, I just want to talk.”

The crunch of twigs broke the eerie quiet. Then, with horror, Aang realized that the sound came from the crack of... _bones_. The spirit contorted, one shoulder thrown back out of its socket, her neck bent at the wrong angle, pulling her head up like a ball and chain. Aang felt _cold._

The spirit wheezed once as she rolled unnaturally to a slumped standing position, her head lolled to the side, her joints popping into place with a sickening sound.

Finally, her neck snapped back, and Aang fought the urge to step away.

Her face was frozen in a scream - black eyes wide, mouth agape, nostrils flared. Her neck was bent, appearing to be broken.

She gurgled. Aang swallowed.

“Who are you?” he asked, forcing calm into his tone.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The spirit seemed to regard him with her ever-screaming face. She gurgled again, louder this time, and it seemed she might be choking. Aang took a step forward.

“Are you-”

Before he could finish, the spirit bent forward as black bile came pouring from her gaping mouth. It slopped to the ground, singeing the earth at her feet.

_I am where the vengeful dead go…_

Her mouth never moved, but Aang heard her. She said it in a long dead language he didn’t know he could understand. A chill crawled its way across his skin as the spirit lifted her head again.

 _I am… where all hate lives._ Her eyes stared blankly at Aang.

“Why?”

Her eyes didn’t seem to really _see_ anything as they stared somewhere beyond. She slowly shifted her weight, looking down at herself. Her long mottled hands lifted slightly as she inspected the black veins that marred the ash-white skin.

 _Why?_ she echoed.

 _Why…_ She repeated.

She seemed to register her shackles, and she reached out a tentative hand toward one wrist. As she touched the energy, the skin of her hand flaked away, revealing a black void beneath.

“Wait! Don’t touch it,” Aang shouted as he thoughtlessly stepped forward. “It’s hurting you.”

A black hand suddenly clutched the front of his robes. Aang swore he never saw the spirit move. Her hand was well within the range of his neck, but she was still. 

_Pain…_ Was all she croaked. Her dead eyes stared.

Aang hesitated, but something told him what he needed to do. Slowly, he lifted his own hand to cup hers.

His body went cold as an invisible force tore through him, causing his head to snap back violently.

Aang screamed as his eyes glazed over with tears.

**Cold.**

_A well._

**Dark.**

 _Rivulets of blood._ _The faces of people well loved._

One.

 **No**.

Two.

 **No**. 

Three.

**_No_** _._

One.

Two.

Three.

**_No please._ **

Four.

 _Blood. So much blood._

_Sorrow._

**_Rage._ **

Alone.

_Rope biting into tender skin. Shattered bone, a final breath._

**_Eternal._ **

Aang felt his knees buckle beneath him, and he fell forward, his hands hitting the ground hard. His mind was white with grief as he cried.

His body heaved with the intensity of his sobs for what felt like an eternity. A deep and old sorrow that did not belong to him rocked his spirit, and Aang feared it would never stop.

Just as the grief was begging to ebb, Aang’s final tears were interrupted when he felt the gentle brush of coarse hair tickling his fingertips. Icy fear gripped his mind.

_He’d let his guard down..._

Opening his eyes, he was met with the long dead face of the spirit only inches from his own. He could smell centuries of earth and ozone from her, but something was different. Aang realized that the gaping mouth was closed. The eyes weren’t stretched wide. There was a strange peace about the spectre, though centuries of decay still marred her features.

 _You mourn…_ Her disembodied voice echoed in Aang’s mind.

Aang swallowed, nodding weakly.

_Why?_

“Because I felt your pain.” He rasped.

_..._

The spirit edged backward and stood again, but her unseeing eyes still stared down at Aang. She bowed her head, which looked more like she was craning her neck.

_I am sorry._

Aang thought he had surely misunderstood. Still she stared.

“Oh…” Feeling his strength return, Aang shakily pulled himself to his feet. “It's alright, I think?” He paused. "It might help if you could warn me before you do it again."

No acknowledgement came.

“Or not. That’s fine too.” He amended. It hardly felt fair to ask a suffering spirit to do him any favours.

_I am…_

She looked up at the sky as though trying to remember.

_Hisako._

She said finally.

Aang wasn’t sure if the usual pleasantries should apply, but he figured they couldn’t hurt.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hisako.”

_You are Aang?_

The Avatar gave an encouraging smile. “Yes, I am. I want to help you.”

Hisako’s attention seemed to be fleeting, like she could only hold one thought at a time. Her gaze wandered aimlessly.

_Help me?_

Aang was cautious choosing his next words.

“I want to help heal your pain. I just need to know how.”

Hisako didn’t acknowledge his words immediately. She took a few uncoordinated steps, seeming to assess the feeling of the dead grass under her feet.

_I don’t know._

Aang sighed.

“That’s okay. We have time. Do you remember anything besides your name?”

The spirit meandered absently.

_No._

Aang approached Hisako, careful not to touch her this time.

“Maybe I can use my Avatar powers to help unlock your memories.”

Hisako didn’t look up, but she didn’t seem to object. She stood passively, her attention floating idly from one thing to another.

Aang was at a bit of a loss. He knew he couldn’t risk delving into Hisako’s mind again, lest he be lost to the despair welled within her. He had already asked his past selves for help, but Wang Xiu Ying hadn’t said anything about helping ghosts get their memories back.

Heaving a sigh, he fervently wished he weren’t alone. But he couldn’t risk returning to the living world and triggering Hisako’s darkness.

_Think, Aang. What can you do?_


	5. No Choice

Toph was the first to arrive, it only took her a day. When Zuko expressed his surprise, she mentioned something about earth surfing and other disruptive acrobatics that Zuko was sure he would be receiving letters from concerned Fire Nation citizens about later.

After Toph had greeted him in a bone-shattering hug, Zuko invited her to take a seat on the first step of dozens at the base of the temple. He told her what happened.

“So let me get this straight, some scary lady attacked Aang? And dragged his soul off to the spirit world?”

“I don’t really know who dragged who off, but in essence, yes.”

Toph blew out an exasperated breath. “Spirit world stuff.”

Zuko hummed his agreement.

“I don’t know how, but I need to get to him. The thing that attacked him… it wasn’t like any spirit I’ve ever seen before, Toph.”

“Guess you’ve seen a few, given how often you hang out with Twinkle Toes.” Toph conceded. “Still, I thought the Avatar was the only one with a free pass between the spirit world and the human world. Without the Great Bridge, we’re stuck.”

Zuko fisted his hands at his sides. He hated feeling so powerless.

“I know.”

He winced when Toph punched him in the shoulder, a little too hard. Her affection would break him one day. She was taller now, and impossibly, she was stronger too.

“Lighten up, sparky. We’ll get Aang back. I mean, he’s had to face some pretty bad spirits before. He’ll be fine.”

“Sparky? Really? You know I’m Fire Lord now, right?”

Toph shrugged. “Well yeah, and you need a spark to make fire. You’re like, Lord of the Sparks.”

Zuko closed his eyes and shook his head. “I think I prefer sparky.”

He felt such relief having Toph here with him. Her presence comforted him from the fears that plagued him. Fears he dared not allow to take hold, but there they lurked in his rib cage, threatening to coil around his heart and strangle it.

He had already lost someone he loved. 

Zuko thought about the way Aang had discarded his body after facing off with the spirit. He closed his eyes against the memory, willing the images away.

He couldn’t bear to lose another.

“You didn’t see what I saw. Aang just _left_ his body behind.”

“He always does that on his spirit-world visits.” Toph countered.

“Not like this. He looked… dead, the way he was laying. It was like he had no time to step into the spirit world, he had to jump.”

“I hope he’s alright.” Toph said with uncharacteristic gentleness. “He better be.”

Zuko nodded his agreement.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Who knew recovering the lost memories of a ghost would be so hard?

Aang didn’t know how long he and Hisako had been in the spirit world, but in that time he’d asked her at least a million questions to jog her memory. The trouble was that her attention was so difficult to keep that she only answered a third of his questions while wandering around the landscape distractedly the rest of the time. He’d even thought hypnotism might work, but her attention thwarted that too. 

He groaned as he let himself fall back into the tall grey grass. He didn’t even flinch when Hisako’s hair tickled his nose as she leaned over him. Her post-mortem eccentricities weren’t as shocking as they had been. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Aang despaired aloud.

The spectre simply hovered above him, looking for all the world like a ship, and Aang her anchor. 

Aang watched as she seemed to look between her own form and Aang’s sprawled in the grey grass. Slowly, awkwardly, she settled to her knees next to him. Her ashen hand reached for Aang’s exposed shoulder and he jolted upright, leaning away. He watched as she stilled her movement.

_You are warm._

He had left his physical body behind, and warm was not what he expected Hisako to feel when reaching for him.

 _Your spirit._ She said finally. _It’s warm._

Oh. Somehow, that made Aang feel shy. 

Hisako reached for his shoulder again, and this time Aang did not move. He watched as her blackened fingers alighted on him. She felt _cold_. He watched as the colour drained out of him under her touch. 

Aang was about to pull away, fearing she might draw from his energy to feed her darkness. But just as he looked up, an unfamiliar face stared back at him. He saw a beautiful young woman with brown almond-shaped eyes, a delicate nose, and a curtain of silken black hair pulled back into an intricate bun. She kneeled before him in a marigold kimono, dotted with delicately embroidered sunflowers. Aang moved, accidentally breaking their contact, and the image was gone. She was replaced by the spectre in her burial kimono.

“Hisako…” Aang whispered.

Her cold eyes simply continued staring off into an infinity that only she could see.

“Hisako,” Aang ventured a question he hadn’t dared ask before. “How did you die?”

This got her attention. Hisako held out the same blackened hand for Aang to take. 

Aang hesitated. Would this be the touch that sent him spiraling into despair again? Or would she draw from his spiritual energy again?

_I am sorry. It is painful._

“I thought you couldn’t remember your life?”

_No. Death is all I know._

Hisako started to withdraw her hand, but before she could, Aang caught it. He was relieved when he wasn’t seized by drowning sorrow.

Lifting his gaze, he fixed Hisako with earnest grey eyes.

“I’m sorry I was afraid. You’ve already suffered so much. Please. Show me.”

_My story._

Hisako seemed frozen to the spot. She was so still that Aang worried something might be wrong.

_No._

All at once, Hisako was standing. The movement from kneeling to standing was skipped. One moment Aang had her hand in his, the next it was like he’d imagined it.

“Hisako?” Aang asked.

No answer came.

She was gone.

 _Spirits._ Aang thought helplessly.

\----------------------------------------------------

Katara and Sokka arrived a day after Toph had. 

“So much for a nice vacation.” Sokka said as he pulled Zuko into a hug. “Good to see you, bud.”

Katara came in for a hug next, frowning as they pulled apart. “How are you, Zuko?” 

Her eyes searched his as she asked. Zuko knew she could see the bags under his eyes, and the hollowness of his cheeks. 

“I’m alright,” he said honestly. “Better now that you’re all here.”

Toph stood next to him and greeted the siblings with a warm hug each.

“Where’s…?” Katara wasn’t sure whether to say Aang, or Aang’s body.

“He’s in Appa’s saddle.” Zuko said, motioning to the bison, who had lumbered over to greet everyone with a messy lick of his tongue. Sokka still complained melodramatically, even at the age of twenty seven.

Zuko told Sokka and Katara what he had told Toph. They seemed stunned.

“I really don’t like the sound of that.” Katara said, her expression dour.

Sokka shuddered visibly. “I really hope I don’t have to see this thing myself. With any luck, Aang will make quick work of it.”

“He’s been out for two days. That’s longer that usual.” Zuko said, frustration creeping into his voice. “I just want to know what’s happening.”

Katara took one of Zuko’s hands in both of hers and gave a small squeeze.

“We’ll find a way to help him.” She said kindly.

“So where do we start?” Toph asked.

“That’s the problem, I don’t know. Without Aang here, I have no idea what to do to help.”

Katara was quiet as she thought.

“Well, we need someone who knows about the spirit world.” She said finally. “Why don’t we go look around town for something?”

Sokka looked unconvinced, never satisfied with open-ended plans that banked entirely on the _chance_ of things working out. But without other options, the friends agreed it was their best bet.

“I’ll stay here to make sure no one messes with Aang.” Toph said, taking a seat next to Appa.

“Thanks Toph. The three of us won’t be long.” Zuko said as he climbed into the saddle, rifling through his pack for something.

“Uh, no offense your fieryness, but I recommend wearing a hood.” Sokka observed.

“You don’t have to tell me. I went into town to send the hawks out, and I regretted not covering up.”

“Were you mobbed by adoring fans?” Toph teased.

“ _And_ not-so-adoring.” He said bitterly as he recalled dodging a tomato that had been flung at him by a bold fool in the throng. The individual had at least been brought to justice, as he was mobbed by Zuko’s supporters and dragged off by local authorities.

“Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.” Sokka said, smirking.

Zuko heaved a sigh, pulling on a sleeveless, hooded robe. 

\---------------------------------------

The friends descended the valley into town, the lush jungle-covered mountains rose above them as they continued their journey downward. After a spellbinding hike down a pathway shaded by canopies of large-leafed trees. Eventually they gave way to a clearing leading out onto cobblestone streets. The clatter of ostrich horse hoofs echoed in the streets, dust kicked up in their wake. They followed the road to the town centre. It was a bustle of lively activity. Zuko marvelled at the brightly coloured storefronts and restaurants. No two were the same. The roads were made of dusty old bricks that were cracked with years of use. People on bikes whizzed past, carrying woven baskets of wares with them. Pedestrians walked the streets, greeting each other as they passed. 

“Wow!” Katara exclaimed. “It’s beautiful!”

Street vendors called out to them as they walked by, offering their wares to them with practiced familiarity.

“My friends, why don’t you come and take a look? I’ve got the finest kitchen knife sets at the best prices. All handmade by our local blacksmith along with custom cookware!” A portly man said as he held up an iron pan. Katara politely turned him down as another vendor called to them from her stand, selling an impossible selection of beautiful flowers. They kept walking past stall after stall, until one voice caught their attention.

“Why, you look like you’re not from around here,” an old lady sitting on an old colourfully woven mat called out to them. She wore a simple purple tunic with her legs crossed under her. In front of her was a deck of tarot cards, a pendulum and other assorted divination tools.

“Wouldn’t you like to know your fortunes? Why not let your friend Apinya tell you?”

Katara beelined it to the old lady and crouched down so she was at her eye-level.

“Actually, you might be able to help us.” She said hopefully. 

“Of course, my dear. How can I be of service?” The woman said amiably.

“Well, we’re looking for someone who can help us reach the spirit world.” Katara explained as Zuko and Sokka came to stand behind her. 

The woman’s expression turned to one of surprise. “That is not a request I get very often. But I may know someone who can help you. There’s an old shaman who lives in the jungle just outside of town. He hosts spiritual retreats for those seeking greater meaning.”

Sokka tried to cover up his scoff by feigning a cough. Zuko gave him a sideways look.

“That’s great! What’s his name? Where can we find him?” Katara asked enthusiastically.

“The shaman’s name is Chema. My granddaughter can take you, if you like.” The woman said smiling, and rose to her feet. She turned to call to a young girl wearing a bright pink tunic. She had brown skin and her hair was in a long braid down her back. She was playing marbles with a group of kids who looked to be her age. The girl obediently bounded over looking shy.

“This is Kanda.” Apinya said proudly. “Kanda, could you please take these young folks to Chema?”

Kanda nodded, and as she looked up into the strangers faces, she noticed Zuko’s scar. She gasped.

“Fire Lord Zuko?” She whispered.

Zuko smiled disarmingly. “You’re very observant, Kanda.” He said as he stooped so he was at her level. “It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

Kanda’s eyes lit up as she swivelled her head between Zuko and her grandmother. 

Apinya laughed. “She’s a big fan.” She said with a wink.

Zuko smiled and straightened. “Thank you. Will you take us to meet Chema?” 

Kanda nodded so enthusiastically that Zuko worried she’d give herself whiplash. Then she ran ahead, beckoning the three to follow. Katara was barely keeping herself from melting.

“Ooh, she’s just so cute!” She said with her hands balled into fists over her heart. “I can’t.”

Zuko chuckled. If he was honest, he really _couldn’t_ either.

They followed Kanda through the town centre, passing more eager vendors and colourful store fronts. The pleasant scent of fresh coffee and spices hung in the air, and they took it all in.

“We have to grab some food to go before we head back!” Sokka said excitedly. “Everything smells delicious!”

Katara and Zuko agreed as they hurried to keep up with the nimble Kanda.

\---------------------

Kanda led the group well outside of town and onto a well-trodden path into the jungle. The path inclined steeply as it wound up the mountain. Kanda stopped.

“It’s just up ahead. I have to go home now!” It was the first thing she’d said the whole way.

“Thank you, Kanda.” Zuko said kindly. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

The little girl smiled big, her hands stretched out at her sides. “You’re welcome, Fire Lord Zuko!” 

With that, she skipped away, heading back to her family.

“What? No love for us? We’re _war heroes._ ” Sokka grumbled as he watched Kanda go. “Where’s the love?”

Katara giggled. “Yeah, but we’re not _Fire Lord Zuko._ We could never compete.”

Zuko felt himself blush. 

“We’re almost there, let’s keep going.” He said, eager to change the subject.

“Okay, but actually, why DO so many people love you, Zuko?” Sokka demanded. “Not that you’re not lovable. But I expected my fan club to be a lot more impressive, and much to my chagrin, it really pales in comparison.”

Katara smirked. “Oh Sokka, don’t you know? Tall, dark and mysterious is heartthrob material.”

“I’m tall, dark and mysterious!” Sokka countered.

“Maybe tall, maybe dark. I’d say you’re very not mysterious.”

Zuko blushed harder. Heartthrob was not how he would ever think of himself.

“Come on, I’m not _that_ mysterious.” He said, almost pleading. Only his closest friends could melt the noble mask he wore as Fire Lord.

Even Sokka had to scoff. “Are you kidding? You were a complete enigma when we first met you, and it was only once you joined the group that you started to make sense.”

Zuko groaned. 

“I bet your fan club would be twice as big if you were still an angsty teenager.” Katara mused. “It seemed like a lot of people liked the tortured prince vibe.”

Zuko groaned again. “Guys, please.”

The siblings laughed.

“Alright, fine. You’re tall, dark and not as mysterious as you used to be.” Sokka relented.

“And nowhere near as angsty.” Katara added cheerfully.

“Remind me to banish you from the Fire Nation when I get back to the capital.” He joked, smiling in spite of himself.

It was then that they reached a clearing where a dirt path led to a small hut. Sitting outside was a middle-aged man with copper skin and hair down to his shoulders, and a long braided beard. He wore an old leather vest, sun bleached with use, and no shirt underneath. His pants ballooned at his ankles, held up with a sash tied at his waist. He looked up and rose to his feet as he saw them approaching.

“Well hello, what brings you travelers here today?” He said with a friendly smile.

Katara took the lead, approaching him and giving a small bow.

“Are you Chema?” She asked. 

The man nodded. “That’s right. How can I help you?”

“We were hoping you might know how we could get to the spirit world.” Zuko said, stepping forward and bowing.

Chema looked surprised. “I typically lead spiritual retreats, but they rarely involve entering the spirit world. It’s more a matter of guided meditation.”

“But they sometimes _do_ involve entering the spirit world?” Sokka asked.

Chema’s expression fell serious. “It’s a dangerous undertaking. It’s not a practice I like to lead.”

“Please, our friend might be trapped there, and he may need our help.” Zuko said gently.

Chema closed his eyes and heaved a sigh.

“The only way to get to the spirit world is to die.” He let that hang in the air between them. 

“Die?” Katara asked as though she hadn’t heard right.

“Yes, temporarily. There is a drug that can be used to stop the heart. It is only safe for a maximum of fifteen minutes, then the person is resuscitated. It’s a delicate process. I have done it before, but I do not do it lightly.”

The friends traded haunted looks.

“I’ll do it.” Zuko said without thinking.

“Zuko, you can’t! You’re too important! If something happens to you-”

Zuko stopped her, holding up a hand. His eyes were gentle. He thought of Aang and his heart _hurt_ in his chest.

“I saw the thing that attacked him. I’m better prepared for this than either of you.”

Both Sokka and Katara looked uncomfortable, sour expressions on their faces.

“Plus,” Zuko added, “I need you here when I come to, in case Aang or I need healing.” He said this to Katara. She nodded.

“I still don’t like it.” Sokka said somberly. 

“Give me another idea, Sokka.” Zuko said quietly. “Anything. If you can think of something else, I’ll listen.”

Sokka was silent for a long time before he screwed his eyes shut, twisting his mouth into a grimace.

“I’ve got nothing.” He opened his eyes to meet Zuko’s. "I really hate this."

  
  
  



	6. To Die

After an unfruitful hour of pleading with Chema to agree to perform the ritual, everyone was exhausted as they trudged back to the town centre, their shoulders drooping with their defeat. 

When the shaman had recognized Zuko as the Fire Lord, he doubled down in his resolve. If something happened to the leader of the Fire Nation on his watch, he didn’t want to shoulder the consequences. Zuko tried to assure him that no blame would befall him, but he refused.

“I can’t really blame him.” Sokka said with a shrug. 

“There’s got to be another way.” Katara said, her eyes focused on her feet as she navigated the uneven path down the mountain.

For his part, Zuko wasn’t sure what to think. On the one hand, he knew it would be foolish to take such a risk. He had no heir, and if he were to die now, the Fire Nation would be thrown into chaos. He figured Azula might come out of hiding to claim the throne.

“Maybe if we bring Aang to him.” Zuko ventured. “The Avatar’s role in the new world is heftier than the Fire Lord’s.”

This thought plunged the friends into an uncomfortable silence. It was true, Zuko knew. If he were to die now, it would mean chaos for the Fire Nation. But if Aang were to die now, it would mean chaos for the world.

“We have no other choice.” Zuko said, leaving no room for argument. “We’ll bring Aang’s body to Chema. When he sees the Avatar, I have a feeling he’ll help us.”

No one objected aloud, but Zuko could feel the tension.

“I mean, he said he’s done it before, right? He’s had some practice. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Sokka said lightly, but the look in his eyes betrayed him.

“Or,” Katara interrupted,”maybe we’ll get back to Toph and Aang will be awake. And no one has to undergo any rituals.”

“I like that option better.” Sokka admitted.

Katara sighed.

“But really, let’s say Chema _agrees_ to perform the ritual. You only have fifteen minutes, Zuko. I don’t know how time works in the spirit world, but fifteen minutes isn’t long. What if you do die? What if nothing changes? Or worse…”

She didn’t have to say the rest. If neither Zuko or Aang were to return, then the world would have to wait at least another decade before a new Avatar could be trained to restore balance.

Zuko wished he knew what to do.

“How about we wait until tomorrow. We give Aang until then to come back, and if he doesn’t, I’m going in. If we wait too long, I’m not sure how long his body can survive. He’s already been away from it for three days.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a few hours later that Zuko, Sokka and Katara made it back to the stone temple on the cliffside. They found Toph napping against Appa, looking relaxed.

“What took you?” she asked, standing.

The crew came back hefting sacks of delicious smelling food, and waterskins filled to their brims. 

“We found a shaman who knows how to access the spirit world,” Sokka replied, “and we have SO MUCH FOOD.”

“Wow, it’s like you’ve got luck up your butts. You go into town and you already found an answer?”

Silence fell over the friends at her words.

“What?” Toph narrowed her eyes. “There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

The friends looked around at each other before Zuko decided to speak.

“Yes. Anyone who wants to go to the spirit world needs to die-”

“Well that’s not exactly a surprise. But there’s another way, isn’t there?”

“Not really. If we do go ahead with this, I’ve decided I’ll go. I saw the thing that attacked Aang, so I have an advantage. The shaman told us that there’s a substance used to stop the heart. From that point, the person has fifteen minutes in the spirit world before they need to be resuscitated.” 

This clearly was not the response Toph expected.

“This is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had, Zuko. And you’ve had a lot of those.”

He winced. He knew she didn’t mean any harm by it, but sometimes the reminder of the betrayals of his youth still stung.

“I know it’s bad, but Aang has been gone for three days, and he’s the Avatar. If I can somehow find him in the spirit world and get him back, we’ll be better off. If he… if he doesn't make it back, then we’ll be waiting years for the next Avatar.” Zuko hated saying it aloud.

Toph crossed her arms. 

“Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but I have the advantage of Katara being here. If something goes wrong, I’m confident she could heal me.”

“And what if that’s not enough?” Toph snapped. “Then what? The world is down a Fire Lord _and_ the Avatar. We can’t take that kind of risk.”

Zuko closed his eyes, frustration welling in his chest. He inhaled deeply to calm himself.

“Fine. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” He said with finality.

With the argument over, Zuko set the food down by the camp while keeping a waterskin in his hand.

“Feel free to get started with dinner. I’ll be right there.”

Feeling all eyes on his back, Zuko walked to Appa, who rumbled at him in greeting. He pet the bison’s muzzle affectionately before walking around to his side and jumping up to pull himself into the saddle.

He looked Aang over carefully. Nothing much had changed since the morning, but there were tear stains down his face. Zuko felt worry and anger simmering beneath his skin. Something had happened to Aang, and Zuko _hated_ feeling so helpless. He just wanted to do _something._

Kneeling next to Aang, Zuko put a strong arm under his shoulders to hold him in a sitting position and carefully tipped the waterskin to the Avatar’s mouth. He was careful not to pour too much at once, in case Aang might choke. Once he was done, Zuko propped Aang’s back against his bent knee and wet the edge of his cloak with the water to wipe the tear stains away. 

Aang’s skin was warm to Zuko’s touch, a reminder that he was _alive._ Zuko tried to ignore how the Avatar’s body felt under his hands. His left hand supported Aang’s weight, holding him under his exposed shoulder. It almost felt too intimate to have his fingers spread over Aang’s bare skin, smooth and stretched over tight muscle. Zuko could feel the sculpt of Aang’s elegant build where his shoulder met his back. 

_Just breathe._ He told himself, relaxing. _  
_

Zuko had already made up his mind. He was going through with the ritual, and not even his best friends could stop him. He could imagine his uncle shaking his head in disappointment. At twenty eight, Zuko had come a long way from his recklessness as a teenager. But he knew that he would never forgive himself if he didn’t _try_ to help Aang. Spirits knew Aang had already rescued him hundreds of times over, pulling him back from the edge and helping him stand tall when he felt weak.

Plus, Zuko admitted to himself privately, he wasn’t sure he could go on if he were to lose him.

“Hold on, Aang. I’ll be there soon.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aang was starting to get worried. He had been trying to chase Hisako down for what felt like weeks. He knew he couldn’t be away from his body for much longer, but he didn’t want to leave without finding Hisako first. She was too much of a threat to be left alone. There was no doubt in his mind that if left to her own devices, she would take more lives. Aang couldn’t let that happen.

But Hisako was an ancient spirit, and it seemed her power was only matched by her ability to hide. She didn’t want Aang to find her, and he hadn’t. 

He had run along the dreamlike monochrome landscape for what felt like forever, but he seemed to be going in loops. He swore he had passed the same trees at least a couple times already. 

Aang stopped running. There was no point going in circles. He had to think.

He looked up at the grey sky as though it might hold the answers he sought, his arms rested at his sides. 

Something about Hisako bothered him, and it wasn’t that she’d tried to murder him. Somehow Hisako made Aang feel like he knew her. There was a strange familiarity, an unexpected camaraderie he felt. He shivered at the realization. He had noticed it especially since he’d seen the visions of her suffering. Her spirit was much too old for Aang to have met her even before he had frozen. Still, something about Hisako knawed at his heart. 

Aang turned his mind to the matter at hand. He could figure out this strange connection he felt later. Now, he just needed to find her. Maybe he could track her by meditating... Her energy was so strong. If he could just catch her scent, Aang was confident he could track her down.

Dropping into the lotus position, Aang cleared his mind and began to count his breaths.

\------------------------------------------------------

Sokka, Katara and Toph woke to the splendor of dawn, as the sun peeked up from behind the mountains. It would have been something to enjoy if Appa hadn’t been missing, and Zuko with him.

“Shit. He’s gone to perform the ritual!” Toph cursed angrily.

“If we hurry, we can get there in a couple hours.” Katara said, only bothering to pull her hair back so she was ready. 

“Let’s go.” Sokka said, standing next to his sister, his hair hanging limply by his face. “We have to stop him.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Trying to pinpoint the source of Hisako’s energy was like trying to capture smoke, but finally he had her. He concentrated hard, rising to his feet, he let himself be guided by a slight pulse, like a heartbeat. 

He felt himself come to the edge of some invisible wall. It shimmered as Aang looked upon it. It seemed to shudder with a life of its own. Reaching out tentatively, the Avatar saw his hand pass through the wall painlessly. Confident now, he stepped through. 

The moment he was through, he was enveloped in a thick fog. He couldn’t see anything in front of him, but he could still feel the pulse of the spectre’s energy, closer now. 

Aang pressed forward carefully. This didn’t feel right. It was like the fog was closing in on him. He broke into a sprint, hoping he wouldn’t run into something… or someone. He was surprised when the ground began to squelch under his feet. Heavy mud sucked at his shoes with every step. He glanced down as he ran and skidded to a stop when he saw that it wasn’t water mixed with the wet ground. It was blood. There was so much of it.

He wanted to turn back, but he couldn’t. He was so close.

Assuming a fighting stance, Aang carefully advanced. The deeper he went, the thinner the fog became. His heart fell when he saw a pale arm laying in the mud. The arm belonged to a young man, the slash across his neck gaped at Aang like a bloody smile. 

He was the first body Aang saw, but as he lifted his eyes, he saw so many more. Some appeared to be soldiers, some looked to have been villagers. Some bodies had similar slashes like the first, others looked charred.

Aang felt sick. He knew this was the spirit world, but he could smell the sickly sweet odor of death and decay. 

Keeping his eyes up, Aang carefully navigated the bodies of the dead. As he moved forward, he heard his footfalls suddenly echo on a paved surface. He seemed to be in a town square. It looked like Itzayan, but smaller. Older. Just on the edge of the square was a tree that towered above scorched wooden buildings. Aang noticed a thick rope coiled around a branch, the end appeared to have been cut.

Aang flicked his eyes to the base of the tree, and he immediately wished he hadn’t.

At the roots of the tree lay four bodies, they looked like they had been discarded where they died. They were badly mutilated. A man, a woman, and…

Aang inhaled sharply. The other two bodies belonged to children. Their grey hands were bound tightly behind their backs, and their heads were missing.

A loud gurgle made Aang swivel his head, and as he did his gaze came to rest on a well at the very centre of the square. He heard another gurgle.

Hisako was here.

Steeling himself, Aang forced his feet to move forward. He felt fear coil more tightly in his heart with every step. He stopped when he was only a few feet away. 

It was then that a blackened hand smacked the edge of the well, pulling the rest of the spectre with it.

**_PAIN._ **

“Hisako. Please. It’s me, Aang.”

But this wasn’t Hisako the human. Her body moved like a strange predator, her long black hair veiled her ashen face, all but one grotesque eye hidden.

He held out his hand to bind her spirit again, but she was too fast. Aang had barely blinked, and Hisako’s face was a mere inch from his, her jaw hung unhinged as her acrid breath overwhelmed him. Her hands were already around his throat.

**_SUFFER AS I HAVE._ **

Aang was brought to his knees, but it wasn’t Hisako’s grip that kept him down. He felt everything drain from him but grief, fear and such incredible pain. Aang felt himself breaking.

Something bubbled up from his chest, unbidden. Icy tears poured from his eyes, but he barely registered the feeling as black ink seemed to fill his vision. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

It took only twenty minutes to fly to Chema’s hut. Appa alighted in the clearing, and Zuko jumped off the sky bison, rushing to the door. He knocked frantically, calling out.

“Chema, your Fire Lord needs to speak with you again.” He didn’t love playing this card, but it did work. Chema emerged from his hut, eyes drooping with sleep.

“What are you doing back here, my Lord? I already told you, I absolutely will not perform the ritual for you.”

Just then, a black shroud seemed to appear in Appa’s saddle. Zuko saw it and ran full-tilt, throwing himself into the saddle just in time to see Aang’s body writhing, black tears spilling from his eyes, his mouth gaped as though fighting for air.

Panicking, Zuko heaved Aang’s body onto his back and leaped down. Chema already had the door to his hut open, ushering Zuko inside.

The shaman wasted no time. Seeing the state Aang was in, he quickly motioned for Zuko to lay down on the ground next to Aang and handed him a purple flower.

“Eat this, it will stop your heart.” He said, to the point. 

Zuko didn’t think, he just put the flower in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. He waited anxiously.

And then everything felt wrong at once. He felt like his mind had been flung into a black pit as his body began to shake, his muscles seized, and his eyes rolled back into his head. His body fought the poison, gripped in a violent seizure. He gagged, choking on bile.

The last thing Zuko saw was Chema’s somber face as he was turned on his side. Then everything faded to black.

  
  
  
  
  



	7. Sacrifice

Too bright light engulfed him as he became aware of his existence in this strange place. It was so quiet. 

Zuko felt weightless in a way that he’d never felt before. Why was he here? He didn’t know, though purpose nagged at the edges of his consciousness. He was here for a reason. Something important. 

But he felt so light. Light as a feather. Whatever the reason, surely it could wait as he let the lightness of his spirit wash over him.

 _Spirit._ That seemed to bring something back. 

“Zuko," An old and welcome voice summoned him. “You don’t have much time.”

The brightness dimmed to reveal the shapes of trees, and the dull blue of a strange sky above. When had he ended up outside? He could feel soft grass under his hands. He turned to find the source of the voice that had woken him.

When his eyes landed on the face looking down at him with a kindly smile, tears welled in his eyes. The truth crashed over him like a tidal wave.

“Uncle.” He croaked, jolting up and into a kneeling position. 

Iroh pulled him into a warm hug, and Zuko’s heart _hurt_ with joy. The familiar shape and strength of him, his grey beard and the genial grumble of his chuckle in Zuko’s ear.

“I wish our reunion were under better circumstances, my nephew.” Iroh said as he pulled back and got to his feet, pulling Zuko with him.

“You’ve grown into an incredible man. I am so proud.”

Zuko had been trying to speak, but he'd tripped over every word that came to mind. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask. But now he remembered why he was here. 

“Uncle, I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am to see you," he didn't even bother fighting the tears in his eyes. "I wish I had more time.”

Iroh nodded knowingly but let Zuko finish all the same. “I need to find Aang."

“The spirit world is trembling. I noticed it as soon as it began.” Iroh gestured at the sky which was now turning an ominous grey with tendrils of black reaching across the expanse. “You are close. Simply follow the darkness to its source. There you will find Aang. Return here when you are ready to leave. Hurry.”

Zuko nodded, sparing a wide smile for his uncle. “I missed you, Uncle.” Then he turned and ran.

The dark coils weren’t hard to track; they stretched out across the sky like spider’s legs, and he could see them thickening as he ran. The closer he came, the more aware he became of the dread settling in his chest. It churned in him like a warning, but still he ran. He noticed vaguely how space didn’t quite exist the way he was used to. As he ran he did indeed come closer to the source of the darkness, but the world around him seemed to flicker from moment to moment. He felt like he was traveling through different worlds with each footfall. 

He stopped when he made it to the edge of a small town centre, and he saw her. The horror of Hisako loomed over the lip of an old well. In her grasp was Aang, his eyes glowing. Blinding blue light pressed against pitch black as Aang fought to keep himself from being consumed. 

Without thinking, Zuko launched himself at the spectre, throwing all his weight into her side. He was relieved when he felt the impact of his body against hers. The momentum sent them both tumbling. He heard her screech as they landed roughly on the stone floor. Zuko landed on top of her, and he fought to grip her blackened wrists. She craned her bent neck up to him, a nerve-rending gurgle coming from her gaping black mouth. Zuko brought a knee to the spectre’s chest to pin her down. He knew he didn’t have much time before she broke free. He needed something to hold her. But what?

Panicking now, Zuko wondered how much time he had left. 

Fine. Brute force was what he had, so brute force was what he’d use.

Zuko pressed his knee into Hisako’s chest harder. The spectre wheezed as he heard the sickening crack of ribs. She gurgled weakly against the assault.

Bearing down harder, he could almost feel the ground through Hisako's body. The spectre’s rage fizzled, and her black eyes seemed to lose track of him. He leapt over her head, still holding her wrists, and forced the spectre into a kneeling position, her head bowed into her lap. He could hear the crack of her bones as her body rearranged itself.

She’d barely been subdued a few seconds before she was fighting Zuko’s grip again, her head turning on her shoulders, her black mouth snapping at him. Impossibly, she bent back towards him with her jaw unhinged, her head the wrong way on her neck. 

Zuko’s breath caught as her grotesque face came closer, and the stench of decay overwhelmed him. Distracted with a new fear, Zuko was unable to fight as Hisako twisted her wrists out of his grasp and lunged towards him. 

He rolled away, but she caught his ankle and _crushed_ it _._ Zuko screamed as he felt his bones collapse in on themselves. 

Unbidden horror took him. He was no match for Hisako, he and Aang would die here.

It was then that blue light illuminated them both. Zuko shielded his eyes to look into Aang’s face. His eyes were glowing with the power of the Avatar, but his expression was tired. He put one glowing hand on Hisako’s shoulder, and she stilled. Her grip on Zuko’s ankle loosened, and then something incredible happened.

Aang rested one knee on the ground behind the spectre, bending the other. He wrapped his free arm around Hisako’s shoulders and pulled her to him. She seemed frozen in time, helpless to fight back. The light of Aang’s spirit flared, engulfing them both. Zuko watched in awe as Aang seemed to _absorb_ the spectre into himself. 

Finally the blinding light of Aang’s energy began to fade, and the scene around them seemed to dissolve as well. The town square, the well - it billowed into the sky, a cloud of grey ashes.

Now they were surrounded by a thick jungle, the sky was again blue.

Zuko watched as the glow in Aang’s tattoos faded, revealing Aang’s grey eyes. He looked dreadful.

“Aang,” Zuko said, wincing as he struggled to his good foot, hobbling over to the airbender. “Are you alright?”

Aang smiled at him. “Zuko, what are you doing here?” He sounded so weak.

He wasn’t sure how long they had left, but now that he had Aang, he wasn’t going to waste any time. Pulling him to a standing position, the two rested their weight on each other as Zuko led the way back to where he remembered meeting Iroh. Again, the landscape around them seemed to change with each step they took. Aang seemed out of it, and this worried him. 

Zuko recognized the clearing he had came in from, and he was pleased to see Iroh sitting there, sipping tea.

“Iroh?” Aang asked.

“Avatar Aang,” Iroh looked concerned. “You must get him back to his body.” He said this to Zuko.

Getting to his feet, Iroh gave each boy a cup of tea.

“Drink this, it will take you back to the human world.”

Zuko smiled in spite of himself. Of course Uncle would still be making tea in the spirit world. 

“Thank you, Iroh.” Aang said gratefully, taking the cup and tipping it to his mouth.

Zuko nodded his own thanks and did the same.

The same bright light that Zuko had woken to seemed to emanate from them both this time. They lifted into the air, and Iroh stood waving at them from the ground.

“This is just the beginning, nephew. Stay strong.” Iroh said, with a sad smile on his lips.

Before Zuko could ask him what he meant, he felt himself transported through space. He couldn’t make sense of up or down, left or right. For the briefest of moments, Zuko realized he had become shapeless. His spiritual body had dissolved in favour of just his consciousness. Not trained in the art of spiritual travel, Zuko wasn't ready to understand or harness his disembodied existence. There was no grasping, there was no running or bending. There wasn't even the weight or pain or burden of breath he was used to. Nothing made sense, but he still _felt._

Just as his sanity began threatening to unravel, the world mercifully began to take shape again. He recognized the inside of Chema’s hut, and relief exploded in him at the sight of his body laying on the ground. He watched Aang reflexively float down to his own body and lay back into it. Zuko followed suit, but when he went to lay down into his body, he only went through.

Aang had left his body as the Avatar, Zuko had... died.

Just as panic was beginning to bubble up in him, Zuko watched as Chema came through the door to the hut and kneeled before his body. Holding his index and middle fingers together with both hands, he held them over Zuko's chest. Floating above, Zuko watched as lightning crackled to life at his fingers. Chema brought his hands down, and the moment he made contact, Zuko felt his spirit pulsate. As Chema brought his hands down again, he felt a second pulse reverberate through him, like a heartbeat.

Zuko felt everything narrow down to each pulse, and each time he felt himself pulled toward his body, an invisible tether reeling him back. All at once, he was yanked down, down and down.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Coming to had been a terrible idea, Zuko decided. As soon as he was back in his body, he lurched forward and wretched onto the ground beside him. Wave after wave of nausea crashed over him as he spilled the few contents of his stomach. His head was pounding. He lay back down, squinting into the gloom of the little hut. 

Chema loomed over him, sweat beading at his temple.

"Welcome back." He said mirthlessly.

Zuko smiled weakly. "Thank you."

"Rest for now. I'll prepare something for you and the Avatar."

Feeling sick and exhausted, Zuko closed his eyes, letting sleep take him.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

It felt like a year had passed when Zuko opened his eyes again. His back ached from laying on the hard ground.

“Aang?” Zuko managed to whisper.

He felt his heart do a flip when Aang turned his head to look at him, but he wasn’t smiling.

“I know what you did, Zuko." He bit out. "You could have _died.”_

Technically he already had, but he wasn't about to point that out. Zuko had seen Aang angry before, but now? He looked downright livid. Maybe the fact that Aang was weak and emaciated due to three days without food was a good thing.

Chema must have been outside preparing something. Zuko could smell it.

“You would have done the same for me.” He replied defiantly. 

Aang sighed. He looked pale, but at least he was alive. “Yes, but I’m the Avatar.” He said simply, as if that was reason enough.

Zuko held Aang's grey eyes, recognizing the severe look in them. It was far away, closed. The look of a man who felt he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, a weight he believed he must bear alone.

“I wasn’t going to abandon you." He said gently. "You don't have to do everything alone, Aang.”

Aang's eyes widen just a fraction, but he finally smiles.

“I- Zuko, I want to be angry with you, but thank you.” Aang shakes his head. “If you hadn’t come, I'm sure I wouldn’t be here now.”

He's relieved to have Aang back - and he's relieved his desperate plan hadn't backfired. The world still had its Avatar and its Fire Lord in tact. Or, at least he thought so - suddenly, memories of Aang merging with the spirit flood him.

“Aang, what happened to Hisako?”

Before Aang could get a word out, three bodies came barrelling through the little door of the hut. The cavalry had Toph at the front, and she looked downright pissed.

“Zuko, you piece of shit.” She seethed as she stalked forward, cracking her knuckles menacingly.

“Toph!” Aang exclaimed happily, and Zuko silently thanked him for the distraction.

Toph froze, the grimace twisting her features turning to shock.

“Twinkle Toes?” 

Zuko watched as Sokka, Katara and Toph descended on Aang, pulling him into a tight group hug. Exclamations of joy and relief sounded out, and the friends clamoured to ask Aang where he’d been, what had happened, why he was gone so long, and was he okay? Aang looked dizzy with it all.

“Guys!” Aang cried, and the room quieted. “Hold on, I can only answer one of you at a time.”

“Forget that! I’m just glad you’re okay!” Katara said, tears in her eyes.

“No, _don’t_ forget that. What the hell happened to you?” Toph demanded.

“I second Toph!” Sokka added.

It was then that Chema returned to the hut with bowls of hot soup in his hands. He handed one to Aang, and the other to Zuko.

“Eat up.” He said smiling, taking a seat with his own bowl. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting more of you.” He said this to the others.

“No, of course. Please eat.” Katara stood, bowing apologetically.

The group spread out around the hut to give Aang room, and to include Chema and Zuko in their circle. Friendly chatter filled the hut as the friends waited for Aang to finish eating. Zuko noted how exaggerated the hollows of Aang's cheeks appeared, and the dark bruises around his neck. He'd never seen the Avatar look so diminished.

“Alright Aang, go on. What happened?” Katara prompted once he had set his empty bowl aside.

So Aang told them.

He told them about being attacked, about how he met Wang Xiu Ying. He told them about being stuck in the spirit world trying to learn more about Hisako.

“Something Avatar Wang Xiu Ying said made me realize what I needed to do. She said I might need to bind her darkness in some way.”

Aang worried about what he had to tell his friends. It had been so long since they'd all been reunited like this, and he wished he had happier news to share.

“I chose to use myself as a sacrifice. I’ve bound Hisako with my body and spirit.” He said cautiously. "I'm her prison."

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Chema broke the deafening silence by speaking first.

“This Hisako…” He said gently. “Could you tell me more about her?”

Aang nodded.

“Yes. She’s a spirit of vengeance… All I know is that she died hanged, then her body was discarded in a well.” He swallowed. “When I was in the spirit world, I saw the place she died. There were four others who had been killed - a man and a woman, and… two children. Their heads were taken.” Aang only whispered the last part, barely able to say it aloud.

Chema nodded. “Then she is who I thought.”

All eyes were turned to Chema now.

“Hisako’s legend is ancient. Itzayan was colonized by Fire Lord Isao two generations before Fire Lord Sozin took the throne. Isao was known as a merciless conqueror.

"The story goes that he marched on Itzayan after Hisako refused to marry him, and massacred most of the population so they would submit. Hisako was the village leader and protector, along with their small but formidable army. Sadly, the village never stood a chance against the numbers of the Fire Nation army.

"To assert his dominance of Itzayan, Isao stripped Hisako of her title and brutally executed Hisako and her family in front of the remaining villagers. He was cruel, and he killed Hisako’s sister, husband and two children first, while she watched. Next he hung Hisako in a burial kimono after brutalizing her, and disposed of her body in the well.” Chema paused to let the information sink in. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as they listened.

“Normally the Avatar would have stepped in, but the Avatar at the time, Wang Xiu Ying, was still learning to master the four elements. By the time she learned of the massacre, it was too late.

“The night after the massacre, Hisako’s ghost appeared for the first time. She killed all of Isao’s men, and she stalked the village for Isao. However, he had already retreated to the Capital to celebrate his victory, so Hisako never had her revenge on him. The story goes that her spirit comes back to haunt the world of the living every time a new Avatar or Fire Lord steps foot in Itzayan.”

"Why the Avatar?" Zuko asked.

"Because she was not there to protect her and her people, as was her duty."

The air in the room felt thick, and Zuko thought he might choke on it.

“So she wants us.” Aang said, his expression haunted.

Chema nodded.

“But wait, didn’t you just say something about sacrificing yourself?” Sokka asked, an edge to his tone.

Aang nodded. “Yes. I sacrificed my body and spirit to hold her while I can. I need time to figure out how to cleanse her darkness, and in the meantime I need to at least put her human soul to rest.”

“But Aang, she wants to kill you. Haven’t you given her a way to do that from the inside-out?” Sokka was aghast.

Aang looked grave. “Yes, that’s true. Even now I can feel her working to take over. But Hisako isn’t just the evil in her. She’s good, too. Her human spirit wants peace, it’s her grudge that wants vengeance.” He let out a breath. “But I’ll be honest. I’m on a time limit. My spiritual energy, and my body, can only hold her for so long.”

Here, Aang gestured to the tattoos on his feet. Zuko followed them and his eyes widened when he saw the arrows over his arches.

“Aang, your arrows on your feet… they’re black.”

“And I have a feeling they’ll continue to turn black as time goes on.” He said somberly. “That’s why I need to-” Aang didn’t finish. His expression seemed to go blank, his eyes staring at nothing. His hands began to shake. 

“Aang?” Toph asked, noticing the change in his breathing.

“What’s happening?” Zuko demanded, kneeling next to Aang, wincing at the sharp pain in his ankle. 

Suddenly Aang was very still, his eyes closed. 

“My… family.” He said softly. His voice sounded very far away.

“What?” Katara asked gently. “Aang, we are your family. We’re here.”

“No.” He said, his eyes still closed. “I am not Aang.”

No one dared say anything next.

“I am… Hisako.”

A collective shudder went through everyone in the room.

“Find the remains of my family. I wish to see them again.”

A small breeze seemed to go through the hut from no apparent source, and Aang fell limp. Zuko caught him, easing him back down to the mat he lay on.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aang woke to the scent of fresh air and the warmth of Appa’s fur all around him. He realized he was curled into Appa’s side, his bedroll unfurled beneath him. Appa was watching him with his large eyes, filled with concern. He grumbled dolefully as Aang stirred. 

“Hey buddy,” Aang said with a smile. “Sorry for worrying you.” He was rewarded with a gentle nuzzle from the bison, and Aang leaned in to the contact, grateful for the comfort and familiarity of it.

Looking around, Aang recognized the little cliffside he and Zuko were days before, and he looked up at the sky full of stars.

“Aang!” He heard Katara’s voice, and he turned to see her bounding over to him. “You’re awake. It is… you, right?”

Aang quirked a brow at her. “Yes...? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you see…” Katara paused, and Aang’s eyes fell to the betrothal necklace at her throat. It was new, he could tell. A different carving graced its surface, and Aang felt his heart crack.

“Katara,” he interrupted. “It would seem congratulations are in order.”

“Oh, what?” She blanched, then seemed to remember the necklace as her fingers reached to touch it. She looked away. “Ah. I had hoped to tell you first.” Here she met Aang’s eyes. “I’m engaged. We’re getting married in a few months.”

Aang could feel the lump in his throat - it had been three years, but the ache in his heart felt as fresh as the day he and Katara had parted ways. Sitting up, Aang fixed her with a bright smile.

“I’m happy for you, Katara.” He said honestly. As much as he hurt, he wished nothing but the best for her.

“There’s one more thing-”

"Hey bud!"

She was cut off by Sokka leaning over her shoulder. He held a plate piled high with fruit and charred vegetables.

“Eat up, Aang. You’re going to need it after three days of starvation.”

“Hey, I kept him hydrated.” Zuko protested from beside the fire. He lay with his right ankle bandaged and elevated on a log.

"I said starved, not the same thing." Sokka retorted. "C'mon and join us." He said, gesturing for Aang to follow him.

Aang chuckled. He gave Katara a look that said they would continue this conversation later, and stood. Zuko gestured to the ground next to his head, and Aang took a seat. Sokka and Katara followed, sitting around the fire.

“You look good.” Aang joked as he cocked his chin in the direction of Zuko’s ankle.

“You too.” Zuko said, his eyes on the dark bruises on Aang’s neck.

The rest of the evening was spent catching up. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement to not bring up anything related to Hisako for now. Aang was grateful. He felt the weariness in his bones, and in his soul. Being able to spend time with everyone after so long was lifting the heaviness he still felt to his marrow. He found himself laughing happily at the tales his friends told of mishaps and mayhem. Toph talked about her metal bending students with derision and fondness, Sokka, Katara and Zuko spoke about building Republic City. Aang joined in with observations of his own, but mostly listened. He was still too drained to contribute much more than a few words here and there.

Aang noticed Zuko stealing concerned glances at him throughout the conversation, and he felt warm affection bloom in his chest. Zuko had risked his life for him. It had been extremely foolish, but Aang was grateful all the same.

\---------------------------------------

The fire had been put out, and all remaining food had been packed away. Taking up their rooms in the pyramid at last, the friends turned in for the night.

Aang lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet sounds of night. Spider crickets chirped merrily outside his window, and he could hear the whisper of trees rustling with a gentle breeze.

For all the lulling sounds around him, Aang couldn’t sleep. His mind whirled with the afterimages of bodies. He fought back the memory of the corpses of Hisako’s family, and the sorrow threatening to pull him under again.

Hisako had lost everything - violently and brutally. In a small way, Aang took comfort in the fact that he understood her grief. He only wished his previous incarnation had been there to save her from it.

Accepting that sleep wasn’t about to claim him, Aang rose from the bed and padded outside as quietly as he could. As he stepped outside the heavy wooden door, inhaling the fresh night air, he was surprised when he found Zuko sitting on the top step.

“Oh, hey Zuko.” Aang greeted. “Mind if I join you?”

Zuko looked at Aang over his shoulder and smiled. “Of course not, please.”

Aang took a seat. He revelled as the breeze caressed the bare skin of his arms and chest. He was only wearing his pants, having removed the rest of his robes for sleep.

"Thank you for saving me." He said at last. "I'm sorry I was so angry with you." He pauses, his eyes to the stars. "I'm always afraid of losing more of the people I care about."

He saw Zuko look up at him, his expression solemn.

"I understand, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry too. I let impulse drive me, and I could have handled things better."

Aang sighed, resting his weight on his hands as he craned his neck to take in the star-studded sky. It was such a warm night, and he figured he might sleep better under the sky.

"Hey Aang?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're back." Zuko leans back as well, his long hair hanging loose over his shoulders. "I was worried I was going to lose you."

In truth, Aang wasn't sure how he felt. He wanted to be glad, but his heart felt heavy. The next words out of his mouth came unbidden.

“Katara’s engaged.”

 _To someone else._ The thought nearly breaks him.

Zuko swivels his head to look at him then, golden eyes wide.

“Aang…” He said gently. 

Aang shook his head, smiling sadly. 

“It’s okay. It’s been three years. It hurts, but I’m happy for her.”

Aang could feel Zuko’s eyes boring into him, heavy with concern.

“What about you?” He heard him ask.

Aang looked back at him, and he was surprised to see Zuko watching him with such soft eyes. 

There was something Aang couldn't identify in his amber gaze. He felt his reply catch in his throat as something about the moment shifted between them. It was too late, Aang had taken too long to reply. He couldn't summon any words, no matter how he tried. It was like his friend's honey amber eyes were drowning him.

“Zuko?” Aang asked, forgetting to reply at all.

The golden eyes widened just a fraction, and Zuko seemed to remember himself.

“Sorry. I was lost in thought. It’s been a long day.”

Aang felt his stomach bunch in knots as Zuko struggled to stand.

“It’s late. I’m going to turn in.” 

“I can help you.” Aang said, getting to his feet.

Zuko shook his head and smiled. “No, I’m alright. Try to get some rest, Aang. You need it more than anyone.”

Aang nodded, watching as Zuko retreated into the old temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord, this chapter took me what felt like years to write. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> What do you think will happen next?


	8. Aang, alone

Aang woke in a cold sweat at dawn, his sleep plagued by nightmares. He was surprised not all of them featured Hisako. Many of his dreams had featured the air nomads, his people, before he went into the iceberg. He saw the laughing faces of Gyatso and his friends turn putrid as they decayed before his eyes, eventually reducing to dust. He saw Kuzon setting fire to the Southern Air Temple, red fire reflecting in his dark eyes. His dreams had also shifted to show Katara walking away from him. He had tried to run after her, but it was like wading through water, up stream. Katara moved easily, her figure retreating until it reached the silhouette of a stranger. Aang watched as they embraced and disappeared.

Weariness weighed heavy in Aang's bones as he lay in bed, sweat-soaked. His head hurt, and he felt an ache in his lungs. He wondered if he might come down with a cold.

Everything was quiet as dust particles swirled about in the grey morning light. With a sigh, Aang pulled himself out of bed. When he saw his feet, his heart sank. His tattoos were black up to his ankles now. 

There was no use worrying about it for now, he knew. Once the others were awake, he would discuss beginning the search for the remains of Hisako and her family. In the meantime, Aang wanted nothing more than to meditate outdoors as the sun rose over the mountains. He didn’t bother donning the rest of his robes. The air was already warm with the first rays of light, and he yearned to feel the caress of warmth on his skin.

Quietly, Aang pulled on his shoes and made his way out to the cliffside. He gave Appa a little pat as he went by, his heart swelling when his bison acknowledged him with a sleepy grunt.

Once he reached the cliff, he looked down into the dark waters below. As he did, he could just make out the outline of his shadow against the surface. He squinted when he saw strange movement - he swore he could see his reflection begin to shift. A taller, darker shadow emerged from his shoulders, as though something were growing out of him. The figure was hunched, a long curtain of hair hanging from its head that swayed with a mysterious breeze. Aang watched with horror as the shadow grew two spidery hands that stretched down to embrace him from behind.

He gasped, his hands reflexively shooting up to protect his neck. However, his hands only came to rest on his own skin. He could feel his heart clattering in his chest now. Maybe his nightmares had followed him into his waking life. He rubbed his eyes, and this time he only saw his own silhouette when he looked down.

Aang shuddered. He'd had enough of reflections. He stepped back from the edge so he couldn't see the water, and he crossed his legs beneath him to sit. Taking a deep steadying breath, he willed his heart to slow its frantic beating. With his eyes closed, Aang turned his mind to the world around him. He felt the gentle breeze of morning dance over his bare shoulders, he heard the ocean lapping at the shore in the distance, accompanied by cheery birdsong, and he revelled in the fresh scent of crisp ocean air. 

It all felt so right.

So why then, Aang wondered, couldn’t he stop crying?

“Get it together, Aang.” He scolded himself. 

He wiped the tears away on the back of his arm and settled back into position - back straight, hands resting in his lap, his fingers pressed gently together.

He sat like that for a long time, breathing in, and breathing out.

Finally, he let his head fall into his hands, sobbing silently into the grey morning.


	9. Duty Calls

It was hours later when Aang heard the sounds of his friends waking from their own sleep. He felt spent, but he plastered on a smile and climbed the too many steps leading up to the little temple. He reached the door and pushed it open.

“Good morning, Twinkle Toes.” Toph greeted. She was sitting at the little table with a cup of steaming tea. Zuko and Sokka were also at the table, Katara was standing at the marble counter with a teapot in one hand, pouring herself a cup. Everyone looked up and greeted Aang as well.

“Good morning.” He said pleasantly, stepping into the room. He took the empty seat between Zuko and Toph, across from Sokka. 

“How was your morning meditation?” Katara asked as she set down a steaming cup in front of Aang before taking a seat herself.

“Thanks,” he said as he took the cup in his hand, “it was good. It’s beautiful out there.” He didn’t trust himself to say more, lest Toph sense he was lying. Thankfully she didn’t seem to be paying too much attention. Meditation never was something she cared for.

“Best tea, as always.” Aang said earnestly. “No doubt brewed by the Fire Lord himself?”

Zuko’s good ear turned red as he blushed. “I had the best teacher.”

“Speaking of which!” here Aang smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I’m so sorry, I never did ask you how you were feeling after seeing him again.” 

At this, everyone’s attention was on them both.

“You saw Iroh?!” Toph exclaimed.

Zuko nodded. “Yeah, in the spirit world. He was there when I woke up. He pointed me towards Aang, and got us back to our bodies after I found him.”

“Wow, is that normal?” Sokka asked. “I thought the spirit world wasn’t really the same as the Great Beyond.”

“It’s not.” Aang said, sipping his tea. “I was surprised to see him there, too. But I’m very glad he was. I bet he was happy to see you again, Zuko.”

Zuko looked down into his tea cup with a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, I think so. I know I was happy to see him.” He looked up at his friends. “I really missed him. Somehow knowing that he’s not so very far away brings me a lot of comfort.”

Everyone was quiet, and Aang rested a comforting hand on Zuko's forearm. He gave a quick squeeze before pulling his hand away again.

“So, I waited to say anything until now because of the circumstances,” Katara said slowly, “but I think it’s time we addressed what you did, Zuko.”

Toph and Sokka nodded in agreement. Zuko paled. 

“Look, guys, before you tear me apart, I just want to say I’m sorry. I know it was wrong of me to take Appa and go in alone.”

“I can feel how sincere your apology is, Zuko.” Toph said angrily. “It doesn't change the fact that you put yourself at risk without any of us being anywhere near to help if things went wrong. You even left Katara behind.”

For what it was worth, Zuko did look chastened. “I am sorry. Really. I just…” Here he swallowed. “The world needs the Avatar more than it needs the Fire Lord. I couldn’t risk losing Aang if there was something I could do.”

Aang noticed Toph’s eyes narrowing, she opened her mouth to say something, but surprisingly stopped. Instead, she took a sip of tea while grunting in disapproval.

“Look, that argument only holds water if you had a guarantee of _not_ dying for good, which you didn’t. You went in and risked the world losing both the Avatar and the Fire Lord.” Sokka was pointing at Zuko accusingly now.

“Okay, okay, guys.” Aang said peaceably, holding his palms out to his friends. “I agree, but I think we’ve said all that’s needed. Besides, Zuko did save me. We’re alive, the world isn’t down an Avatar or a Fire Lord.” Here he turned to Zuko with a gentle smile. “Just don’t do anything like that again without getting our back up, please?” 

Zuko’s eyes were burning with an intensity he didn’t expect.

“Fine, but I need you to make a promise in return.” He took a breath. “You have to promise to work with me next time. I felt like I had no choice but to go in alone because no one was on my side. If we come to another hard decision in the future, I need more flexibility from you all.”

Katara looked down into her tea cup before speaking. “You’re right.” She said looking up. “I’m sorry, Zuko. We should have heard you out.”

Sokka gave a small nod.

Toph shrugged. “I’m a naturally inflexible person, but yeah, okay. I’ll work on it.”

Satisfied the subject had been resolved, Aang leaned forward with a hand extended before him.

“So, if you don’t mind me switching topics, I think we should get started on the search for the remains of Hisako and her family.” 

“I’ve been thinking about that, too.” Zuko replied thoughtfully. “After you passed out yesterday, we asked Chema if he knew where we could find the old well. He said there’s an old graveyard on the outskirts of Itzayan. The well is still there. It’s remained something of a tourist attraction and shrine to Hisako’s memory.”

“We’ll probably need permits to dig up the remains.” Sokka observed, grimacing at the thought. “Does Itzayan have a local head honcho?”

“Yes, the mayor. He would probably be the one to go to for the permit. Of course, as Fire Lord I can pull a few strings if you need me to.”

“Wait, why did I pass out?” Aang asked, realizing he didn’t remember.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when his friends looked at him strangely.

“Guys, what happened?”

“Hisako used you as her mouthpiece.” Sokka said without humour.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Real creepy.”

Aang furrowed his brows, worry painting his expression. "I’ll have to be careful about that.”

They were interrupted by three loud knocks at the door. Being the closest, Aang stood to answer. At the threshold, he was met with an out-of-breath messenger holding a scroll. It bore the Fire Lord’s seal.

“A message for Fire Lord Zuko, Avatar.” He huffed, bowing as he handed the scroll to Aang. “I’m afraid it’s urgent.”

Aang gestured for the messenger to come in as he crossed the room to hand the scroll the Zuko. The latter took it and tore the seal, unfurling the paper and beginning to read. His brow rose high onto his forehead as he read. When he was done, he was scowling.

“Damn it.”

“What is it?” Katara demanded.

“It’s the loyalist movement. They’ve threatened an attack in the capital unless I negotiate an agreement with them. I have to go back.”

“Then I’ll go with you.” Katara said with finality. “You’re going to need back up, and your ankle is still due for a few more healing sessions.”

“Yeah, we’ll keep things going on this end.” Aang agreed. “We’ll find the remains while you deal with the loyalists. Of course, if you need us, just send a hawk.”

Zuko nodded. “Then I better get ready.” He went to stand, but was pushed back to sitting by Katara.

“I’ll get us packed.” She insisted. “You stay off that ankle. You’ll never heal if you keep putting your weight on it. Also, you need to keep it elevated.”

“But-” 

“But nothing, Zuko. You’re staying put.”

“We still have a whole journey back to the Capital. Every mode of transport I can think of is going to be a bumpy ride for my ankle anyway.”

“Not if you take Appa.” Aang said. “He’s always a smooth ride, and he’ll get you back to the Capital in a few hours.”

Zuko heaved a sigh. “Alright. Thanks, you guys.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zuko was amazed at how quickly Katara managed to pack both his and her belongings. He’d had enough time to eat a bit of fruit and jerky before loading up Appa’s saddle. 

Everyone was lined up for hugs before they departed.

“Go kick some loyalist butt.” Sokka said as he wrapped Zuko in a hug. 

“Oh, I fully intend to.” Zuko said with a grimace as they pulled apart.

“That’s the spirit.”

Next he hugged Toph, and last he hugged Aang. He couldn't help but notice the citrus scent of him, the dips and curves of his shoulders, his long, strong arms around his back.

 _Enough._ He chided. It wasn't fair to Aang to be this selfish. Hating himself a little, Zuko pulled away a little more quickly than he would normally.

“Good luck, Aang.” He managed to say evenly.

“You too. Hopefully you can get the loyalists sorted soon.”

Seeing the sincerity in Aang’s grey eyes made Zuko relax a little. 

“I’ll do my best to be back soon.” He paused. “Please take care of yourself.”

He felt like he was holding his heart out to Aang when he said it. There were so many layers of meaning he didn’t dare say aloud.

He abruptly cut off his own line of thinking by purposely putting weight on his bad ankle. He groaned as pain shot up his leg, but the tactic had worked to distract him.

“Zuko,” He heard Katara scolding him. “what did I say?”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose.” He lied.

“I’ll airbend you into the saddle.” Aang said, assuming a stance. “Ready?”

Zuko nodded, and he was pleasantly surprised when he was lifted off the ground by the gentlest of gusts. He sailed up and over the saddle, alighting gently in a sitting position. Once he was settled, Katara climbed up onto Appa’s head.

“Take care of my sister!” Sokka called out to Zuko.

“I’m pretty sure she’s going to be the one taking care of me.” He called back as he waved. Katara yip-yipped Appa into flight, and the bison roared as he took off into the clouds. Zuko watched as Toph, Sokka and Aang shrank in the distance as they sailed up and away.

  
  



	10. Head Count

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, WE'RE BACK.
> 
> I just want you to know how painstakingly slow this chapter came together. It's taken me weeks to get back into this head space. I have to thank The Haunting of Bly Manor for getting me there, and I'd be remiss in not thanking BraveNico for agreeing to watch it with me. <3 Thank you, friend.

It had been a long time since Zuko had spent time with Katara one on one, and he found he was at a loss for what to talk about. Usually he felt comfortable with her, but his own guilty conscience combined with the knowledge that she was engaged tied his tongue. Instead, he laid his head back against the saddle, pretending to sleep. 

He turned his mind to the reason for their voyage. His throne was again under threat, and Zuko wondered if there would ever come a time when he could rule peacefully. Realistically, he figured it was unlikely. He had been handed a world in ruins to put back together, and piece by painstaking piece, he and Aang had been rebuilding all that had been broken. But it felt as though the moment one wrong had been righted, there were several more in its place rearing their heads. 

He wasn’t alone, he reminded himself. He had Aang, Katara, Sokka and Toph, and Suki with her Kiyoshi warriors. He had his family - Ursa and Kiyi, and he had hope. There may always be dissent, such was the nature of politics, but at least Zuko had the power and privilege to shape a better world next to some of the most incredible people alive.

Zuko hears the gentle shuffle of robes and opens his eyes to find Katara climbing up into the saddle. When she sees him awake, she smiles.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” She asks.

Zuko stretches his leg, flexing minimally to test the pain. It was still there, but there was already a lot of improvement from the day before.

“It’s doing alright.”

Katara rests her back against the saddle, looking out at the sky. Her eyes shine with the reflection of the cerulean blue above as they sail past large fluffy clouds.

“Zuko…” Katara begins, sounding strangely cautious. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?” 

Katara’s brows furrow, her expression guilty.

“How’s Aang?” She asks finally. “I’ve been worried about him since we ended our relationship. You see him more often than the rest of us, and I was just wondering how you think he’s handling things?”

Zuko’s eyes widen at her question, but he feels warm affection bloom through him over her concern.

“He’s doing okay.” He replies honestly. “He stays busy with the Air Acolytes, they keep him grounded to his roots. He’s thrown himself into renovating the air temples, and his role as the Avatar means he does a lot of traveling. He seems to enjoy meeting new people, and I make a point to spend time with him when he’s in the capital for work.”

Katara nods. “That’s good to know, at least. I just hope he’s happy.”

Zuko’s not sure what to say to that. In truth, Aang hadn’t really been the same since the break up. His smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes as they once had, and he’d stopped talking about the day he might have an airbending child. If Zuko had to be honest, Aang seemed lonely, but he keeps this to himself.

“The Avatar’s job is a heavy burden.” He says instead. 

Katara’s smile is a sad one as she lifts her hand to the betrothal necklace around her neck. 

“Yeah.” She says quietly. “It is.”

***

With help from Katara, Zuko dismounts Appa, stumbling as he tries to stand. His ankle is still a shattered mess, and Katara had warned him it would be for a while. He’s greeted by a procession of guards, headed by his advisor, Huo Jin. 

With his long robes trailing behind him, Huo Jin bows as Zuko makes an effort to stand tall. Gratefully, he leans into the hand Katara uses to steady him on his shoulder.

“My lord, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the men demanding an audience with you have camped outside the palace gates. I’m sure they saw you arriving on the air bison and will be demanding to see you in short order.”

Zuko gives a nod. He’d expected as much.

“Who are these men?”

“They’re former members of the Fire Nation army, sir. Led by now retired Major General Kanaye Gushiken.”

Zuko’s eyes widen as the name registers. If this was the same man who had marched on Ba Sing Se with Iroh, then he wasn’t someone to be taken lightly.

“Very well. When he comes, show him to the throne room.” He turns to Katara. “Would you mind sitting in?”

“You think I’m going anywhere with you in your condition?” She asks, brow quirked.

A smile tugs at the corner of Zuko’s mouth as he replies. “Just being polite.”

***

There’s not even time for refreshment before Huo Jin is pushing the doors open to the throne room, leading Kanaye and four other men. Kanaye is a man of impressive stature with a sharp jaw and greying hair. His still strong physique belied his years, for he was only slightly younger than Iroh had been during the siege.

The room is bright and inviting, the walls hung with crimson silks. Zuko had his father’s throne dismantled the moment he had a chance, preferring a beautifully carved and painted throne. It sits raised only a few steps above the ground with expert gold leaf details traveling along the lacquer-coated cypress wood. 

Kanaye drops to one knee, but keeps his eyes trained on Zuko.

“My Lord, thank you for agreeing to an audience.” His words ring insincere.

“Threats against the throne aren’t taken lightly, Gushiken.” Zuko replies coolly. “By speaking, I hope we can reach an agreement and forego any fighting.”

“Speaking can only do so much, my Lord. While you have been making reparations to the Four Nations, you have forgotten those who served our own. You have given the young opportunities to build new lives, but for those of us who are veterans of the war, there’s nothing left.”

This news is surprising. The amount of investment that had gone into making it possible for ex-military to live new lives was significant. 

“Under my father’s reign, those who served in the one hundred year war were to be given fair compensation for their service.”

Kanaye’s black eyes narrow, his lips settling into a thin line.

“Yes, that was under your father’s reign.” He says pointedly. “Things have changed.”

“There are ministers who have been appointed to veteran’s affairs,” Zuko counters. “They’ve been charged with ensuring former soldiers like yourself are advocated for.”

“Do you know how many ministers there have been in the last year alone, Fire Lord?”

Zuko made a point of being as involved as possible in the workings of his nation, but he was just one man, and even he didn’t know all the answers. He looks to Huo Jin who bows in apology.

“Tell me, Gushiken.”

“Since you took the throne, there has been a revolving door of ministers meant to represent veteran’s affairs. There’s no consistency or consensus among them, and many resources have been funnelled into retraining young soldiers for the industrialization of the nation.”

“Show me.” Zuko says finally. “I need to see your circumstances for myself. Once I understand, I can begin to make necessary changes.”

Kanaye bows his head, his four men bowing with him.

“Of course, Fire Lord Zuko.”

***

Though Aang was dressed as incognito as could be - headband and head scarf along with fingerless gloves to cover his tattoos, he was surprised when the odd child would burst out crying at his passing. An old woman had turned to look at him, stricken, and shuffled away in a hurry. A middle-aged man sitting at a food stand dropped the morsel between his chopsticks on the way to his mouth, his eyes bulging as the blood drained out of his face.

“Uh, guys, do I have something on my face?” He asks Sokka and Toph as they follow Chema through town.

“Dunno Twinkle Toes.” Toph replies flippantly.

Sokka smirks but turns to look at him.

“Other than your usual goofy expression, nothing out of place that I can see.”

“Goofy expression?” He wonders. If he wasn’t growing a second head or oozing blood, he could think of nothing that should cause such alarm. 

The hot afternoon sun beats down on them as they make their way through narrow dusty cobbled roads. Once they come to the edge of town, Chema hails a couple men on bicycles pulling shaded carts and climbs into one. Aang joins him as Toph and Sokka climb into the other. The graveyard is a ways outside of town, Chema had explained, going on foot would delay them at least half the day, and Aang didn’t want to waste any time with the inky black darkness steadily creeping up his shins.

Aang feels inexplicably cold for someone wearing full sleeves, pants and gloves in the middle of a hot day. He shivers involuntarily, rubbing his hands together in front of him.

“Is it just me, or is there a chill in the air?” He asks Chema jokingly.

“It’s the spirit you carry with you.” He replies, solemn. “That is also why some look at you with terror. There are those with the sight, and your spirit is a fearsome thing to behold.”

Well, that was unfortunate. He’d hardly meant to subject innocents to Hisako’s haunting. At least this way she might only cause nightmares rather than physical harm, or so he hoped.

At the very least the ride out to the graveyard was a lovely one over dirt roads following the vast expanses of farmer’s fields, many of which were being harvested. Rows upon rows of towering corn shoots sway gently with the breeze, the earthy scent of freshly shorn shoots settling over Aang like the spirit of autumn herself. He inhales deeply, happy for this small moment of peace. 

The rest of the ride is quiet, and after a little over an hour, he sees the crown of a mighty tree springs up from a city made of gravestones of varying heights and sizes. Some stones are carved in the shape of a spirit that represents the person buried beneath while others are simple round or rectangular headstones with the long weather-worn names of loved ones carved across their surfaces. 

As they approach the city of the dead, Aang realizes he’s seen this tree before. He fights back a wince at the memory of Hisako’s maimed body hanging from one thick branch. As they near the outskirts of the plot, the riders come to a stop to let them clamber out. They pay their drivers and Chema leads them to the old stone well that still stands in the shade of the ancient tree.

Aang stops dead when he hears the echo of a gurgle coming from deep within the well.

“Something wrong Twinkle Toes?” Toph asks, stopping next to him.

“Stay back, guys.” He warns, holding an arm out to prevent them from advancing further. He steps forward on his own, arms up in a stance as he approaches the lip of the well carefully.

He inhales and holds his breath before peering down into the blackest depths. At first he sees nothing, but something moves ever so slightly. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he sees her. Her terribly crumpled form lays at the bottom, contorted and broken. 

_She moves._

Aang is rooted to the spot, helpless but to watch as Hisako’s broken body begins to pull itself up the side of the well, her limbs arranged in a parody of life, bent at all the wrong angles. He feels his stomach lurch at the vision, but still he cannot move.

“Aang? Bud?” He hears Sokka ask as though from another world away.

He tries to answer, he tries to _move,_ but it’s no use. It’s as though the well has him in a gravitational pull. His mouth is dry as he sees the dark tangle of hair rise up to greet him one inch at a time. The mottled skin of a decayed arm rises over the lip of the well followed by a foot and an exposed knee under the ruined fabric of a burial kimono. 

_She gurgles._

And then Aang is staring into the blackest eye, shining with malice.

He yelps when a strong hand pulls him back from the well, and the trance is broken.

“Aang!” It’s Sokka again. “What’s going on?”

His chest is heaving with the force of his breathing and he can feel the blood rushing in his ears. The apparition from just moments ago is nowhere to be seen. He blinks and rubs his eyes, but the well is just a well.

“I saw her.” He says, his voice just above a whisper. 

“Who?” Toph asks. “The ghost lady?”

Aang composes himself, shaking his head.

“Yeah.”

“Well, we didn’t see anything.” Sokka says, gesturing to the three of them.

“What you saw was an echo.” Chema says at last. “You have her spirit within you, and so too her experiences.”

Aang shudders. He's surprised at how he shakes, like his spirit is trembling within him. Would he ever get used to Hisako's apparition haunting him?

“I guess so." He says as he takes a deep breath to steady himself. "Toph, can you see anything under the well specifically?”

Toph steps forward, head bowed and feet shoulder length apart as she scans the world beneath her.

“Yeah, I think I can see some remains at the bottom.” She says finally. “It’ll take a bit of finagling to get them out without disturbing other graves, but I think I can do it.”

She takes her stance, and the ground begins to rumble. There’s something distinctly wrong about unearthing bodies this way, but it would be easier than trying to dig up the well by hand.

“Twinkle Toes, I could use some help.”

Aang takes his own stance and begins to move, closing his eyes and moving with Toph to carefully bend the earth up and through the well. Toph expertly guided the process with precision. Finally, with a rumble, layers of different coloured sediment overflows from the lip of the well, spilling out over the ground before them. 

“Eugh, disgusting.” Sokka complains, jumping back from the offending dirt.

Sure enough, the bones of multiple skeletons become apparent - fossilized by the passage of time. 

Aang takes a step forward to scan the remains. As he looks, he hears a whisper no louder than the breeze in his ear.

_Incomplete._

He looks closely, carefully bending the layers of earth away to reveal three adult skulls. 

“The heads of the children…” He breathes. “They’re not here.”

“I didn’t see anything else down there.” Toph says as she assumes her stance again. After a minute of silence she shakes her head. “That’s all there is.”

Aang’s shoulders slump forward.

“At least this is a start. Let’s get these bones packed up. I’ll see if I can figure out where the heads are…”

Chema pulls the roll of sackcloth from his back and spreads it out over the ground as Sokka and Toph carefully gather the remains, rolling them together. 

With a gust of air, Aang propels himself to the branch he remembers seeing Hisako hung from. He folds his legs beneath him and presses his fists together with his eyes closed. 

_Where are they?_ He asks, then waits.

At first all he hears is silence, then he realizes it’s too silent.

_He opens his eyes, and the world around him has transformed. He's no longer on the branch, but hanging from it, his neck bent at an unlikely angle. Panic begins to rise in him, but he can’t move. Looking down, he sees crimson rivulets trailing from a pale foot… not his own._

_He watches from sightless eyes as a heavily armoured man laughs, hoisting the severed heads of two children over his shoulder. They bounce against his back as he gestures with his sword for his army to retreat._

Aang gasps, clawing at the branch beneath him when he opens his eyes again. 

“Fire Lord Isao took their heads.”


	11. The Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Another chapter!
> 
> Comments really go a long way in fuelling my energy, guys. I know a lot of us don't necessarily think to comment, but let me tell you, it's the lifeblood of a writer to get feedback. All comments are so incredibly appreciated. So please, show some love if you're enjoying this fic so far. Or... if your sleep has been plagued by nightmares stemming from this fic. Even better.

_There was no other word for it - squalor was what Kanaye and others like him lived in. As Zuko rode his ostrich horse through the too narrow streets of erected tents, the choking smoke of possum rat cooking on spits made his eyes water. Men and women in their twilight years were dressed in rags, greying at their temples. Many were wild-eyed, the mental and emotional scars of the war haunting their waking lives. Some muttered to themselves, some were curled on the ground, sobbing in a heap - victims of their personal hell._

_How could this be? These people looked worse off than the citizens of the lower ring of the Earth Kingdom. They had been lifted from poverty through the redirection of resources, giving them access to free education, and thus, a stepping stone to a job and an opportunity to build a better future._

_But these people,_ his _people, had been abandoned._

_He thought of his sister, a victim of her own ghosts._

_He would make this right._

Zuko had sent a missive to the current minister of veteran’s affairs the moment he’d returned to the palace, demanding an explanation for this criminal negligence. He’d spent the rest of the day in meetings with Huo Jin and his treasurer, Osamu, along with a few of the Fire Sages to determine next steps. First there would need to be a census to get an accurate headcount of the people in need of help. At the same time, the current minister of veteran’s affairs would be charged with ensuring the necessary resources were distributed to allow for the long term care of those who were not mentally stable. For those who were still lucid, they would be assigned homes paid for by Fire Nation coffers, but where remained to be seen. 

After just one day in the slums with Katara and a few guards interviewing those who were willing to speak with them, he'd already heard stories that could break a man. There were some families that had leaned on the retraining programs, sending their kids to receive an education that allowed them to find a well-paying job in Republic City. They had been fortunate enough to have a path paved for them out of poverty. Those who were left had lost their family to the war, and many had gone mad, preventing them from seeking asylum.

Massaging his temples, Zuko sighs in the privacy of his chambers, his untouched cup of tea sitting accusingly on a small iron tabletop. He picks up the cup and heats it with his bending, smiling at the memory of his uncle doing the same all those years ago. He shakes his head, remembering how he’d lost his temper. Granted, it _had_ been an unfortunate oversight on Iroh’s part for the sake of hot tea, but it hardly warranted having the cup smacked out of his hands.

He wished his uncle were with him now. He’d know what to say to ease Zuko’s mind, roiling with guilt and anger. It was hardly a wonder his father still had supporters if this is how those most loyal had been treated since he took power. 

Though he tried not to think of him as often, Zuko’s mind inevitably turned to his favourite airbender. He wished more than ever for Aang’s soothing presence, missing his steadfast faith in Zuko’s ability to make the right decisions. He tried to imagine what Aang might tell him to relax his nerves, but his own mind came up blank when searching for kindness to offer himself. What he wouldn’t do to have Aang with him now, and maybe, he allowed, to hold him close. 

He stops himself there, afraid of letting his imagination run away with him. His feelings for Aang were his to keep. The Avatar had enough to worry about as it was, and Zuko wasn’t about to add unrequited love to the long list of burdens he already shouldered.

A gentle knock at the door brings him out of his reverie.

“Zuko?” 

“Come in, Katara.” He says warmly and watches as the door to his chambers swings open. In the light of dusk through the window, his room is a kaleidoscope of long shadows, the refraction of sunset light painting the walls in deep hues of orange and maroon. 

“Glad to see you’re keeping your ankle up.” Katara says as she slips inside and takes the seat across from Zuko. He takes a second cup from the tray and pours her some tea.

“Riding around all day did a number on it. I think the swelling has gone up.” He replies, inhaling sharply when he goes to flex his toes. 

Katara takes a sip of her tea before dropping her hands to the bandages around his ankle, gently lifting his leg to remove them. As they come away, they reveal the ravage of deep purple and black bruises, their shape an echo of Hisako’s ghoulish hand. 

“You overdid it today.” Katara sighs as she uncorks her waterskin to begin the healing session. “This will probably set you back a few days at least.”

He didn’t have days. 

“I wonder how everyone else is faring.” He asks aloud. “Better than me, I hope.”

Katara looks up at him sharply.

“Zuko, you’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

He’s quiet as he meets her eyes, his chest clenching around his heart.

“I completely abandoned these people, Katara.” He grinds out. “You saw for yourself.”

“What I saw was the inevitable horror of what a war leaves in its wake. Zuko, you’re one man running an entire nation while working with two others and helping restore the fourth. You’re already putting things in motion to put things right.”

He purses his lips, drumming his fingers over the armrest.

“I still could have-

“Zuko, stop.” Katara’s eyes flash as she cuts him off. “You’re doing everything right. The last thing you need is to beat up on yourself.”

At a loss for what else to say, Zuko falls silent, retreating into his thoughts as he continues to ruminate over his failure. Guilt and shame rear their ugly heads at him, making it hard for him to breathe. He needed a distraction. Anything.

“Katara, when you and Aang were… together,” oh spirits, this wasn’t the distraction he’d quite imagined, but here he was. Katara is looking at him with one brow quirked as she moves her hands around his ankle, the water glowing around his skin. “Um, you know what, nevermind.”

“It’s been three years, Zuko. You can ask.” She prompts.

He looks up at her, his eyes pleading.

“If I tell you something, you have to swear that it stays between us.”

He felt frayed at his edges, dizzy with emotion. He needed something to ground him, he needed connection, he needed _honesty_.

Katara bends the water back into its skin and replaces the cork. When she’s done she reaches forward to take Zuko’s hands in hers. 

“Talk to me.”

She holds his eyes, unrelenting blue pouring into him, searching. He feels his heart fluttering against his ribcage as he takes a breath.

“I… have feelings for Aang.”

It was an understatement, but the words felt heavy with all they carried from him. With the words out of his mouth, he feels the slightest weight lift from his chest. Finally, some relief.

Katara’s eyes widen as his confession settles over her. She blinks, her mouth working to respond, but she only succeeds at a squeak.

“Oh.”

_This was a mistake._

Zuko pulls his hands away, a lump forming in his throat.

“Zuko, no, I’m just- I wasn’t expecting you to… It just never occurred to me…” She fumbles over her words. “Ugh, what I’m saying is I’m surprised, but I’m not at all upset. How long?” 

Zuko raises his eyes to hers, his brows furrowed in a guilty look. 

“A long time.” He allows.

Katara inhales deeply as she runs her hands through her hair, falling back into her seat.

“Wow.” Is all she says.

The silence is deafening, and Zuko finds himself rushing to fill it.

“It happened before I knew what I was feeling. He’d smile and I would feel my heart stop, we’d spar and I’d lose myself, distracted by the way he moved. No matter what’s happened between us, he’s at my side when I need him. He always listens, he never fails to believe in me, even when I don’t believe in myself.” He pauses, remembering. “After uncle passed, Aang stayed with me for days. He didn’t ask anything of me, he just… sat with me as I grieved.” He turns to the darkened sky, his eyes wet. “I knew I loved him then.”

He knows he’s rambling now, so he bites his tongue against further nonsense. 

“It’s the first time I’ve told anyone.” 

“Oh Zuko.”

He’s surprised when Katara pulls him into a tight hug, one hand on the back of his head, the other curled around his shoulders.

“You remind me of him, you know?” She whispers. “You both get the same look on your faces - like you’re straining under the weight of the world.”

She pulls back, dropping her hands to his once more.

“I know that Aang cares for you. I wish I could say I knew more, but I can tell you without a doubt that he would only be gracious if you were to tell him how you feel.”

Zuko gives a small smile, his heart hurting. “My feelings aren’t his burden to bear.”

Katara doesn’t answer, but she gives his hands a squeeze before pulling away. 

“Thank you for trusting me, Zuko.” She says gently. “I’m always here, or just a messenger hawk away.”

He feels strangely heartbroken as he sits with Katara, with nothing but the moon for light. There was a reason he’d thrown himself in front of a lightning blast to save her - this wonderful woman who had come to love him as a dear friend against all odds. 

“Thank you, Katara. For everything.”

Katara shakes her head, her eyes shining as she smiles. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

Zuko smirks back at her. “Oh?”

“You firebenders are all smoke and bluster up front, but deep down you’re a bunch of quivering hearts in need of air.” She says this last part pointedly. 

Zuko blushes in spite of himself, tripping over his words. “It’s probably time for me to retire.” 

Katara’s grinning now, and she breaks into a giggle. “I hope you know I’m going to be teasing you about your crush every chance I get.”

“Go to bed, you evil waterbender.”

Katara gives him an innocent wave as she pulls the doors open to leave.

“Flameo, hotman.” She says in an impressive impersonation of Aang.

_Spirits help me._

***

Zuko wakes to the quiet patter of running feet, his heart racing as he bolts upright. His head swims as he strains to listen.

_An assassination attempt?_

The feet _skitter_ beyond his chamber doors, then stop. What were his guards doing? Shouldn’t they be alerted to the trespasser? With rising dread, Zuko fears that his guards may have been incapacitated. He sees no blood under the light of the moon, but there were ways to kill without breaking skin.

Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, Zuko stands, putting as much of his weight on his good ankle as he can while raising his arms in a fighting stance. He hears it again - the _tap, tap, tap_ of children’s feet running outside his doors.

Carefully, he limps forward. It’s painfully slow progress. He’s just a few feet away from the doors - the running stops. He holds his stance, staying a few paces back. The doors _click_ open, the latch hanging loose. It had been locked just a moment ago, Zuko could swear it.

He holds his breath, willing his fists to warm with his bending as he waits. 

The doors _creak_ as they swing back on their hinges…

But there’s no one there. His guards are inexplicably missing from their posts, and there’s nothing to explain the sound of children’s footsteps. Zuko is met with eerie silence as he narrows his eyes, keeping his arms raised defensively.

The sound of feet… turns out to be the sound of balls rolling along the floor. Zuko watches, his eyes widening as two round objects roll into his line of vision, but rather than rolling in a straight line, they turn into his chamber as they reach the doorway. Zuko’s immediate thought is that they’re bombs, but just as he’s about to spring to action, he sees something that stops his heart.

_They have faces._

The balls… are heads.

Two rolling heads, their eyes rolled upward, their black mouths moving like fish trying to breathe out of water. Their skin is pallid, lined with spidery black veins as they come to rest just a few feet away from where Zuko stands. His heart jumps into his throat as he watches black irises roll forward so both heads are looking up at him, gaping in silent cries.

 _They creep_ towards him.

He yells, volleying fire at them without a care. The room explodes in flames as the tapestries catch fire around him. He squints through the flames licking at the walls, searching for the heads. He jumps back when he feels something _cold_ touch his ankle, and nothing could prepare him for the mouths closed around the hem of his pants, small children’s teeth clinging as he moves. He can’t shake them off, the flames don’t seem to deter them.

“What do you want?!”

His reply comes in the form of a tidal wave that knocks him back against the wall, the fire snapping and sizzling as it’s doused in water.

“Zuko! Are you alright?!”

Katara comes rushing into his chamber followed by two guards who take in the smouldering state of his room.

Zuko has no answer as Katara reaches him, and he falls limp against her, his world turning black.


	12. Coming Home

Katara woke with a kink in her neck, groaning as she adjusted herself in the chair she’d spent the night in at Zuko’s bedside. After waking to the inferno of his room, she’d resolved to have him moved into her room in case something else were to happen before the sun rose. With the first rays of light sneaking through the windows, she opens her eyes, feeling her entire body tremble with the force of her stretch. She yawns, wondering how wild her hair must be. 

She’s not surprised when she’s met with honey amber eyes.

“Good morning,” she greets. “You’re going to get tired of me asking, but how are you feeling?”

She giggles when Zuko lets out a groan of his own.

“I think I might be going mad,” he says finally as he sits up in bed. “Did you really sleep in a chair the rest of the night? We have cots, you know.”

Katara grimaces at the sharp pain as she turns her head from side to side experimentally.

“I didn’t want to get too comfortable in case whatever woke you came back. What happened, Zuko?”

He recalls the eerie faces that had peered up at him, bodiless and otherworldly.

“I saw the heads of two children,” he says, barely believing it himself. “They were somehow alive… I mean, not alive, but moving like they were. They looked right at me. It was like they wanted something, but I can’t say what.”

Katara feels the blood drain from her face. “Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming?”

Zuko shakes his head. “I was wide awake. Aang is usually the one communing with spirits, but I’m pretty sure what I saw were ghosts. They were like Hisako — it’s like looking at someone who died a long time ago, but animate. It’s hard to explain.”

It was harder to believe. The spirits Katara had become accustomed to meeting were linked with nature. They were manifestations of life. Manifestations of death were unfamiliar territory.

“Didn’t Aang say something about seeing children… missing their heads?” Katara recalls, recoiling at her own question.

Honey amber eyes widen in acknowledgement.

“Of course. Yes, he did. Hisako’s children.”

“But why would they appear to you and not Aang?” Katara wonders. “He’s the Great Bridge.”

Zuko crosses his arms over his chest, humming. 

“I don’t know.”

A gentle knock makes Katara lift her head.

“Miss Katara,” she hears Huo Jin’s voice from the other side of the door, “a hawk has arrived with a message from the Avatar.”

Katara and Zuko look at each other.

“Perfect timing,” Katara calls. Huo Jin understands her words as an invitation to enter, and he opens the door to the room, bowing as he does.

“My Lord, it’s good to see you awake,” he greets once he’s by the bed. Katara takes the scroll from his hand and unfurls it to read. Her eyes widen as she scans Aang’s message with dawning understanding.

“What is it?” Zuko asks, craning his neck to no avail. He’s forced to wait until Katara finishes reading and hands him the scroll.

“Seeing those heads was no coincidence.” 

Zuko barely hears her as he reads the scroll himself.

_We found most of the remains of Hisako and her family under the well. The children’s skulls are missing - I had a vision that Fire Lord Isao took them as war trophies. The skulls might be somewhere in the palace. Send a hawk if you find anything._

Zuko knew just the place.

“We need to visit the dragonbone catacombs,” he says decisively. 

***

Zuko is sure steam must be coming out of his ears at the indignity of his present state. He sits in a wheelbarrow, Katara pushing him along the dimly lit tunnel of the catacombs. A wheelchair had been commissioned, but on such short notice creative solutions had been employed. 

“I can walk,” he insists for the umpteenth time.

“Not a chance,” Katara replies with an evil grin. “You need to stay off that ankle, and I need to savor this moment as long as I can.”

“You will not breathe a word to anyone about this,” he warns. 

“I’m telling the gang,” she says simply. “Otherwise, your secret’s safe with me.”

Zuko flings his weight back into his makeshift chariot with a sigh. His right ankle is propped high on a plank of wood fastened to the lip of the steel tray. He’d never live this down. It’s a bumpy ride, even with the cushions piled under him (his steward had insisted on padding it at least). He watched as Fire Sage Shyu led them deeper into the catacombs, his shoulders shaking with an attempt to conceal his laughter. Ugh. He’d be the laughingstock of the sages for years to come. Nevermind the sages, he thinks. Toph and Sokka were going to have a field day when they found out. Aang, at least, would have the decency to hide his laughter when Zuko was looking, if only to spare him more embarrassment. 

“All previous Fire Lords have their resting place in the dragonbone catacombs,” he says, trying to distract from his unfortunate circumstances. “That includes Isao. He was known for taking war trophies to celebrate his wins in battle. He would have been buried with them.”

Katara hums her reply, sounding unenthusiastic.

“If he considered the heads of two helpless children trophies, I dread seeing what else he took with him.”

Zuko can’t help but agree. 

It’s a long trek through the tunnels as they pass the resting places of Fire Lords past, the wheelbarrow clattering along the uneven ground as they go. They stop when Shyu turns to face them. He’s solemn as he bows.

“Through this door you’ll find Fire Lord Isao’s crypt.”

He straightens and selects a key from a ring in his hand, the metal clinking as he does. With a turn in the lock, the bolt turns over and he pushes the door open. He lights the sconces in the crypt and stands back, allowing Katara to push Zuko through first. The smile he fights back doesn’t escape Zuko’s notice. He barely resists the urge to smack his palm to his forehead.

As they come into the crypt, Zuko’s vanity becomes the least of his concerns. 

“Oh no,” he hears Katara breathe.

Oh no indeed.

He looks around at the dirt walls with horrified awe and hundreds of sunken sockets stare back. Hundreds, if not thousands of heads in different states of mummification sit in their individually dug shelves. They’d been _preserved._ Desiccated and discoloured skin clings to bone, lips peeling back to reveal yellowing teeth. Some still have spidery hair hanging limply from leathery scalps.

“This is wrong.” Katara’s voice is shaking with rage as she speaks.

At the centre of the room sits an opulently carved sarcophagus, raised above the ground on a marble foundation. Zuko purses his lips at the narcissism of it. 

“I need to stand,” he says, and his tone must reflect the severity of his feeling, because Katara doesn’t argue as he swings his legs over the edge of the wheelbarrow to rise. It’s only a moment later that he feels Katara move to his right side, pulling his arm over her shoulder to steady him. He gives her a grateful nod as he turns his eyes back to the walls. 

“How are we going to find them? There’re so many,” Katara despairs.

He didn’t know. It would take ages to inspect each head, not to mention the disrespect they’d be showing the already wronged deceased. 

He hears a quiet scrabble behind and above. He and Katara turn to track the sound, and when they look up they gasp in tandem as a head _moves._ It’s different this time - the eyes and mouth are closed, but it pitches forward, pushed by an invisible force. It falls to the ground, rolling to a stop at their feet.

Just as they’re digesting the occurrence, another head falls from the wall. It lands with a dull thud and rolls until it comes to rest next to the first. Eerily, both have stopped face up, leathery eyelids half-open against black sockets. With dismay, Zuko notes the long hair trailing from what he can only assume is a girl’s head. The other has little hair left, and what is there is cropped close to the scalp.

There is no part of Zuko that wants to reach down to take them, but he swallows down his fear and holds out his hand for the silk bag they’d brought for this purpose.

“Zuko, I’ll do it,” Katara insists, but he shakes his head.

“No. This is my wrong to right,” he says decisively, taking the bag and a roll of fabric from Shyu, who’s crossed the floor to them. 

Zuko pulls his arm away from Katara’s shoulders and stands on his own. He kneels, inclining his head in respect.

“I’m sorry for what my forefather did to you,” he says quietly before he rolls out the fabric on the ground. He inhales and holds his breath, reaching down to take the head of the girl between trembling hands. Her skin is dry and wrinkled to his touch, and he fights the urge to recoil as he gently moves her onto the fabric, folding the excess over her face. He wraps her head with half the available fabric to protect it from damage and proceeds to reach for the head of the boy. He completes the same ritual, covering his face and wrapping carefully until he can pick up the bundle, depositing it in the silk bag carefully. When he’s done, he lets out the breath he was holding. He feels dizzy, and Katara has to steady him as he leans back to seat himself in the wheelbarrow once more. Shyu bows, wordlessly volunteering to carry the bag as they leave the crypt and begin the long journey back to the surface in somber silence.

***

Aang had never felt so cold in his life, not even his airbending could warm him as he shivered against the warm night air. He’d changed into his habitual robes, but he was wrapped in a blanket as he held his hands out to the fire to warm them. Toph sits next to him in short sleeves and shorts, cooking poultry on a spit. Sokka had gone into town to buy more food, promising to return with egg custard tarts and other assorted favourites.

He couldn’t take it. He had to know.

Reaching for his shoes, he works at the knots holding the leather around his calves, pulling them the rest of the way off his feet. His heart races as he takes in the tattoos traveling his shins, looping around his legs. They’re completely black, disappearing beneath his pants.

“Aang?” Toph asks, alerted by the sudden racing of his heart.

Aang pulls on his shoes once more and reties them.

“It’s spreading. Fast.” 

Toph turns the spit over the fire.

“How fast?” she asks.

“This morning it was black up to my shins, but now it’s travelled all the way up my legs.” He forces himself to breathe as he says it. “At this rate, I only have a couple days at most.”

“A couple days until what?” Toph demands, alarm lacing her tone.

Aang hangs his head, pulling the blanket around himself.

“I don’t know, but it won’t be good.”

Toph presses her fist into his shoulder — a gentle punch.

“We’re gonna get you through this,” she tells him. “We’ve pulled through worse.”

Aang smiles, resting his hand over hers and squeezing gratefully. 

“Guys!” It’s Sokka. He’s rushing up the path behind them, a rucksack over one shoulder and Hawky standing on the other. “Katara and Zuko found the heads!”

“That’s not something you hear every day,” Toph drawls, pulling her fist back from Aang’s shoulder.

“Right?” Sokka agrees as he comes to join them by the fire. He holds out the scroll to Aang to read. “They’re making their way here first thing tomorrow.”

Aang perks up. “We’ll have to organize the funeral as soon as possible."

Aang wanted to do things right. The people of Itzayan needed to know the truth, and Hisako deserved to be remembered as who she really was. He resolved to gather as many villagers who would agree to attend, and finally, Hisako and her family would know peace. 

And then? Well. He couldn't prepare for what he couldn't foresee. All he could do was hope he knew what to do when the time came. 

_You'll have to extricate the girl from the ghoul._ Wang Xiu Ying's words echo in his memory.

“Do you know if ghost lady has any specific requests in mind?” Sokka asks as he opens his rucksack and passes Aang an egg custard tart. All apprehension melts away, and Aang can’t help the way he grins as he takes the pastry.

“You’re a hero, Sokka,” he says as he takes a bite, and what a glorious bite it is. It’s almost enough to distract him from the ice settling in his marrow. Once he’s had time to savor the bite, he swallows. “And no, I don’t. I’ll have to ask.”

Sokka passes Toph a mooncake, earning him a harder punch in his shoulder. He rubs at the spot with his brows knitted together.

“I’m grateful for your affection and all, Toph, but do you think you could make it hurt less?”

Toph laughs.

“Not a chance.”

***

Aang wasn’t sure how to go about speaking with Hisako’s spirit now that she was inside him. Usually he would meditate to enter the spirit world, but maybe he didn’t have to go so far?

He sits just a few yards away from the crackling fire where Sokka and Toph are watching the stars above. He focuses on bringing himself into the present moment, counting his breaths. 

_Hisako, we’ve found the remains of your family._

When he opens his eyes, he doesn’t expect the sky to be so blue above, or to be surrounded by happily blooming sunflowers. Sitting across from him is Hisako, she appears to him as she had in life. She smiles prettily in her marigold kimono. 

“Is this where you want to be buried?” he asks.

She gives a single nod, and Aang smiles back. 

“I’m happy you’ll be reunited with your family.” The words inexplicably make his chest clench around his heart as he speaks. 

Hisako’s smile turns sad as she leans forward and reaches for Aang’s hand. Her touch is feather light, her eyes shining with sympathy and gratitude.

_You will see your family again one day._

He feels the tears on his face before he realizes he’s crying.

“Thank you, Hisako.”


	13. The Funeral

Kanaye and his half brother Odajima sat side-by-side in Appa’s saddle like a mismatched set. Odajima was his brother’s opposite - a quiet man with a shy round face and grey short-cropped hair. He had the build of a soldier, but the demeanor of a much gentler profession. Zuko had asked the brothers to join him in Itzayan to speak with the mayor of the city about developing housing for the veterans who still had their minds. The capital was no place for the war-scarred people. Caldera was still dominated by Fire Nation imagery reminiscent of the one-hundred year war, and the men and women who had lived through it needed no more reminders. Itzayan, on the other hand, was a world unto itself with vast white-sand beaches and a slower pace in its day-to-day life. The people were friendly, as far as he could tell, and the quiet rural lifestyle would surely act as a balm on the harrowed souls of the former soldiers who’d lost everything to violence.

Kanaye rested with his eyes closed holding his sheathed katana against his shoulder with one knee bent to his chest. Zuko suspected he wasn’t really asleep so much as avoiding conversation. Odajima, conversely, looked on in awe-struck silence as large fluffy clouds sailed past, sniffling when some of Appa’s fur caught in his nose, rippling in the wind.

Zuko couldn’t help smiling.

“I remember the first time I rode Appa.” He finds himself saying. “After chasing the Avatar for the better part of three years, I thought he’d go at lightning speed. Instead, it was like riding a cruise ship through the skies. At sixteen I remember feeling disappointed.”

The memory of Aang gently chiding him for his negative attitude makes him shake his head. What a long time ago that was now.

“I’ve never experienced anything like it, my lord.” Odajima breathes, tearing his eyes away to look at Zuko.

He hoped Odajima would be similarly charmed by the mountainous valley of Itzayan and everything it had to offer. 

“Odajima, forgive me for asking, but you and Kanaye seem to be skilled fighters. Why did you stay in the slums of the capital?”

Odajima’s expression clouds over, his eyes turning sad.

“The people you saw were our brothers and sisters in arms during the war, my lord.” He says quietly. “We stayed because they were the family we had left.”

Zuko regretted asking. 

“I won’t let this gross oversight go unaddressed, Odajima. I give you my word.” He says soberly.

Odajima bows his head to him with a small smile. 

“I’m sorry for the trouble my brother and I have caused you.” Here he looks over at Kanaye. “My brother is a great soldier, but certainly not a diplomat.”

Hence the threat against the throne, Zuko thinks. Though he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have done something similar in his place. It worked in getting his attention, there was no question about it.

Odajima settled back against the saddle to resume his cloud watching. Without idle chatter to occupy his mind, Zuko thought about the silken sack at his side holding the heads of Hisako’s children. He suppressed a shudder at the memory of the dry leathery skin of their faces under his fingers. Letting his eyes stray to the sack, he almost feared he’d see movement from it. Much to his relief and gratitude, none came. 

_Only a few more hours._ He thought.

***

Aang looked _ill_. That was what consumed Zuko’s mind as he and Katara alighted on the cliffside. How had his condition worsened to such an extent in just a few days? He had deep bruises under his eyes, and his usual bright energy was missing, apparent in the slight droop of his shoulders. Sokka waved at them as he and Toph packed up camp.

“Welcome back.” Aang greeted them with a weak smile as he went to hug Appa’s muzzle. Zuko watched with concern as he closed his eyes, resting his head in Appa’s fur for longer than he needed. Appa whined gently before snorting. 

“I’m alright, boy.” Aang murmured before straightening. Zuko couldn’t see his tattoos under his civilian disguise, but he wondered how much black he’d see if they were uncovered. 

Katara climbed into the saddle and their eyes met long enough to share a concerned look.

“Alright people, no time to waste. We have a funeral to arrange.” Sokka said as he hoisted his bag over his shoulder before climbing up Appa’s tail to the saddle. Toph followed, settling down next to him with her arms crossed over her chest. Aang brought up the rear, dragging his feet like they were weighted. When he finally made it up, he collapsed bonelessly next to Zuko, his head lolling onto his shoulder. 

There's a breath of a moment wherein Zuko can't think. His mind races, wondering when Aang started feeling comfortable enough to be this physically forthcoming. But he's too still, his breathing too quiet.

He’d passed out.

“Aang?” Zuko asks with rising concern. 

“He’s just asleep.” Toph offers. “He’s been like that since this morning.”

Zuko looks down at Aang’s limp form. As the initial frenzy of panic subsides in his mind, it's replaced with bitter disappointment, and then, fear. To see Aang so weak feels like the world is out of balance.

Katara kneels down next to them with her healing water out, sweeping her hands from Aang’s head to his feet, her brows knitting together as she did. 

“I can’t find anything wrong.” She says with consternation. 

“I’m no expert, but since our resident spirit world guru is out cold, I’m guessing it’s because nothing is physically wrong.” Sokka ventures.

“We need to hurry.” Zuko says urgently. “The sooner we complete the funeral rites, the better.”

***

Aang regains consciousness as he’s nudged awake by a hand on his shoulder. His fights to open his eyes, his head swimming through the fog of sleep. Vaguely, he registers the warmth of the shoulder under his cheek as he blinks against the bright afternoon sun. 

“Aang, we’re here.” 

_Zuko?_ How had he ended up asleep on him?

With difficulty, Aang lifts his head. The combination of sun and his clothes fight off some of the chill in his bones, but he still shivers. 

“Sorry, I must have dozed off.”

He sits up and smiles at Zuko apologetically. Zuko doesn’t smile back.

“You passed out.”

_Ah._

He had to fight back the sense of urgency rising to his chest. He knew Hisako's spirit was the cause of his malaise, and he worried that as he was now, he might not have the strength to do what he needed to. 

“We just need to put Hisako at rest.” He says with determination. “I’m feeling a little better after napping.”

Zuko looks unconvinced, but he goes to stand on his own.

“Your ankle’s better?” Aang asks, rising to his feet as well.

“Thanks to Katara. It has to stay in a splint for a few more days, but at least I can walk on my own now.”

Together they descend Appa’s tail to join the others. For the first time, Aang notices the two unfamiliar faces.

“Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Aang.” He says with a bow.

“We know who you are.” The tall man with long hair pulled into a bun replies tersely. “Avatar.”

“Forgive my brother.” The other man cuts in. “I’m Odajima, and this is Kanaye. Lord Zuko asked us to join him to seek new homes for veterans of the one-hundred year war here in Itzayan.”

Aang nods, well-accustomed to the camp of people who weren’t fans. He’d learned to not take it personally. As the Avatar it was his duty to help anyone in need, regardless of how they felt about him.

As a group, they turned and approached a tall two storey building with a sloping roof, decorated with stone-carved dragons on each corner. They looked out in their respective directions, vigilant sentries protecting the structure. They were greeted at the great metal door by a woman in a simple kimono, beckoning them to come in with a bow before shuffling ahead. Aang had sent word ahead of time to alert the mayor that the Avatar and the Fire Lord would be dropping by. A wide sliding screen is pulled aside by two stewards as a distinguished looking woman steps forward. Her black hair is braided and coiled at the base of her neck, her hands hidden in her wide sleeves as she bows.

“Avatar Aang, Fire Lord Zuko.” She says as she straightens, her voice strong. “It’s an honour. My name is Solada.”

Solada leads them deeper into the building over freshly polished wooden floors to a room facing the gardens. Under the shade of the roof is a long table with a teapot sitting on its surface. Solada kneels, gesturing for everyone to follow her lead. The girl who greeted them at the front shuffles in with a tray of cups and fills one for each guest.

“Thank you for having us, Solada.” Aang says holding his cup in his hands, quietly grateful for the heat of the ceramic against his palms. “We’re here for two reasons: one is to ask your permission and help in organizing a funeral for the spirit of Hisako.”

Solada’s brown eyes widen at the name.

"You don't mean the spirit from the well?" 

Aang nods his answer.

“She died centuries ago. Why would you have a funeral for her now?”

He recounts the happenings of the last week, giving a slightly redacted version of the story, and when he’s done Solada looks at a loss.

“I don’t personally put much stock in ghost stories, Avatar.” She says coolly. “But I trust what you say is true. A funeral can be arranged in short order.”

Aang bows from where he sits. “Thank you."

He pauses before lifting his head again.

"It will need to take place in a field of sunflowers. I think there’s one outside of town?” he asks, recalling when he and Zuko first arrived.

"That can be arranged, Avatar. What style of funeral would be held?"

Aang thinks for a moment.

“I think traditional burial rites for Itzayan would be best. It needs to be a ceremony that will be recognized by the spirit.”

Solada nods. “Cremation then prayer and the release of paper lanterns to guide the spirits of the dead to the afterlife. We can have the preparations ready for this evening if we begin working now.”

Aang can't help the way he's smiling. In just a few short hours, he'd fulfill his promise to Hisako, and maybe then she'll be free.

“We need to gather as many villagers as we can.” he adds. “I can go into town with my friends to spread the word.”

“ThennI will leave that to you. However, that was just one request.” Solada says. “What was the other?”

Zuko gives a small nod and gestures to Kanaye and Odajima.

“These men are veterans of the one-hundred year war, and there are many more like them who need a home. I’ve come to ask for your help and cooperation in seeking out a spot to develop land for housing for them. The costs would be covered by myself. I believe these could become valuable members of the community here if given the chance.”

Solada looks less enthused about this proposal, but it’s hardly surprising. 

“How many veterans are there?” She asks.

“There are over two hundred of us.” Kanaye replies. “Men and women who are all well on in years who want nothing more than a place to call home as we live out the rest of our days.”

She looks down into her tea cup for a long while, and Zuko has to force himself to relax his shoulders against his apprehension.

“My father was killed in the war.” Solada says at last. “In his memory, I agree to help. I’ll meet with the village elders and our local architects to stake out a plot of land to be developed.”

Zuko suppresses his sigh of relief and bows his head, Kanaye and Odajima following suit.

“Thank you, Solada. It means a great deal.”

***

Aang is elated as he looks out at the sea of faces illuminated by the warm glow of burning lanterns set up around the rows of benches to accommodate those attending. Dressed in a more formal version of his robes, he and Zuko approach the funeral pyre just in front of the field of flowers. The remains of Hisako’s family lay side by side, cushioned by a thick bed of chrysanthemums. A single stick of incense burns on a low wooden table before the pyre. They bow low to show their respect for the dead before turning to address the crowd. 

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice. This funeral is important to set right the wrongs of the past, and to pave the way to a better future. Hisako was the leader of this village centuries ago, but her title and her dignity were stolen from her along with the ones she loved.”

Here he turns to Zuko. He smiles and looks out to the crowd of faces.

“I, Fire Lord Zuko, hereby restore Hisako’s title and honour, and vow to have her name rightfully written into Fire Nation history as more than just a ghost story. The Fire Sages will record the accurate history of Itzayan to be taught in schools as it should have been since the beginning.”

They each step back, allowing for a man and a woman to approach in ceremonial robes. They each take up a position at either end of the pyre and assume mirrored stances.

“May Hisako and her husband Takeshi, along with her sister Sachiko, and her children Sora and Hana find the eternal rest they deserve.” Zuko intones, and the pyre erupts in flames as the benders move in tandem.

Now Solada joins them at the front with her steward, who hands a paper lantern out for each of the deceased. Their names are painted on the lanterns in delicate calligraphy, and Aang and Zuko light them and watch as they sail up into the star-studded sky.

And then, everything started happening all too quickly.

Aang doubles over, his hands coming up to his neck, his breath turning ragged. Zuko rushes to him, placing a hand on each of his shoulders. With horror, he watches as the arrow on Aang’s forehead turns a horrible inky black.


	14. The Possession

Zuko barely has a moment to process what Aang's dark tattoos mean before the glimmering blade of a katana is at Aang's throat.

"Kanaye, what are you _doing_?"

Katara and Toph begin to advance, but Zuko holds up a hand to stay them as he rises to his feet. 

"You and the Avatar are the reason our once proud nation has fallen into disrepair." Kanaye's voice is sharp and calm as his blade bites into the skin under Aang's jaw. Aang isn't fighting back. His eyes are unfocused, like he's watching something beyond himself, his arms hanging limp at his sides as a crimson bead travels down his skin.

"If I end the Avatar, I can end you."

Kanaye jerks Aang's head back, settling the blade over his throat. Time feels like it slows as Zuko reaches forward, unsure of what he plans to do, only knowing he has to do _something_. 

"Kanaye, no!"

Then there's a hollow _thunk_ and Kanaye falls to his knees as Sokka's boomerang arcs its way back to his hand. Free from Kanaye's grip, Aang sways before falling to a crumpled heap. Zuko springs forward, dragging Aang's body to rest in his lap to assess the damage. Soon Katara, Sokka and Toph are at his side. Other than the small bleeding knick in his skin, the monk seems to be unharmed.

_Oh thank the spirits._

His relief is short-lived, however, as Aang begins to convulse violently. The force of his shaking is such that Zuko can't keep him from slipping off his legs and onto the ground. Katara quickly flips him on his side.

_A seizure?_

It feels like a small eternity before the shaking stops.

And then the most bloodcurdling noise comes from Aang's body.

_He gurgles._

"Get back!" Zuko yells, standing with Sokka's help and giving Aang a wide berth. They watch transfixed as Aang begins to move, but it's all wrong. The airbender's easy confidence and grace is gone, replaced by erratic jerks as he settles into a crouch, his head low, his legs poised to pounce.

_He turns._

And his eyes are the same inky black as his tattoos.

"Aang…" Zuko breathes, and he hears Sokka gasp next to him. Even he couldn't find levity as he watched this thing that had taken Aang's place.

The black eyes lock on Zuko, and the _thing_ flies at him with surprising speed. He and Sokka jump back as a wall of earth springs up to protect them. They watch in horror as a tattooed hand appears over it, pulling Aang's possessed body after it. Zuko wishes he could look away from this impostor, this horror that has no resemblance to the one he loves.

The crowd of villagers have dispersed, some screaming as they ran. Any who remain stand well back, watching and waiting. 

But he looks, because he owes Aang that much, and he's not about to abandon him now.

"He doesn't seem to be bending!" Katara observes.

It's true. Aang didn't stop the wall or break it, simply latched on and climbed over. They watch as he drops down on all fours, fingers splayed out before him.

Zuko doesn’t understand what he’s doing, all he knows is that he lays a staying hand on Sokka’s shoulder as he steps forward. 

“Zuko, what are you-” Sokka demands.

“Just wait.” Zuko cuts him off. “Stand back.”

In his peripheral vision he sees his friends move away, but he perseveres ahead.

“Aang, I know you’re in there.” He says as he takes another step closer. “You have to fight Hisako.”

There is no recognition in Aang’s face as he jankily moves to stand. He jerks, like he’s being manipulated by invisible strings. As Zuko gets closer, he can see thin black veins against Aang’s golden tanned skin. 

It’s then that he lunges, and Zuko quickly lifts his arms to defend himself, but he doesn’t account for the way his ankle flares with searing pain as he steps back on it. He cries out, breaking his stance, and Aang’s hands sail towards his neck, pressing icy fingers against his windpipe.

“Aang… It’s me.” He chokes out. “I’m-”

He struggles as Aang’s grip tightens on his throat, choking against the pressure. And he feels inexplicably _cold._ All the fire in the world couldn’t heat him, he thinks. It’s like his inner fire is being choked out with his breath. 

_Sorrow._ Deep and interminable eclipses everything else he is.

A flash.

_Four executions. The steely golden gaze of a man who thinks he’s won._

_A boy sobbing over the remains of his mentor and father figure._

_A woman, raped and hung by the neck._

_A boy, alone, with the responsibility of a world he doesn’t know on his shoulders._

Guilt bubbles from deep in his chest, choking him more effectively than any hand ever could.

“You’re not alone.” He whispers, laying a gentle hand over the one around his neck.

_I don’t have long._

He feels weak as the lack of oxygen takes hold, and he wonders idly if this is how his story will end.

It’s then that his salvation comes in the form of ice that freezes Aang’s body in place. He yowls, his black eyes widening as he struggles. His grip on Zuko’s throat loosens just enough to allow him to breathe and he yanks himself free, gulping down air. In the same moment, metal cuffs close around each of Aang’s wrists and his ankles, joined by a short metal bar between them.

Toph stands back and bends metal restraints around the rest of Aang’s body, binding him from his shoulders to his ankles. He fights, every muscle straining against his confines as he shrieks in a voice that sounds nothing like his own. He writhes, twisting inhumanly as he claws at the metal fruitlessly. 

Zuko watches, his vision blurring with tears at the miserable sight. There is no trace of the Aang he knows in this hate-ridden vision. 

It’s a small eternity before Aang goes still. Finally, the wretched gurgling dies out, and the world around them breathes a sigh of relief. 


	15. The Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always so incredibly appreciated! <3

_He feels like he’s floating, like his body is suspended in time. He’s weightless in a world that is made of a darkness so thick he’s sure he feels it on his skin._

_He opens his eyes, but it makes no difference. The impenetrable curtain of mysterious night hangs over him and around him. It’s then he realizes that the curtain has texture - it’s rough and made up of many individual threads._

_Strands?_

_He should move._

_But he’s held fast by something he can’t see, like the dark itself is holding him in place. He lifts a tentative hand that’s bound tight at his side and what he feels makes him go cold. The darkness is hair. All of it - coarse and unyielding. It seems to tighten around him as he begins to struggle, like it has a mind of its own._

_His heart races as he hears the whisper of its movement as it seems to rearrange itself above him._

_The curtain parts._

_And from its tangled depths drops a pale face, its eyes like static, its mouth gaping as it descends ever nearer. He struggles in earnest as its jaw_ unhinges _, ready to devour._

_He can’t reach beyond this place, no matter how he tries. He wants to call out to his past lives, he wants to run._

_But he is alone._

_And there is no escape._

_He resigns himself, stopping his struggle as the gaping mouth is just inches away._

_It’s then that a blinding light pierces the darkness, tearing through it like a blade. The face retreats back into its nest, recoiling against the brightness. There is just a moment where he can see as the blinding blackness turns white._

_And he knows nothing but light._

***

When Aang opens his eyes, he’s shocked to be able to see anything. But see he does - and from where he lays, there’s plenty to take in. Above him hang planters of all shapes and sizes, their vines hanging down and creeping along the carved ceiling. Colourful wind chimes and dream catchers hang from between them, the glass beads braided into the suede laces reflect rainbows around the room. He turns his head, blinking as he looks out the large window next to him. Beyond the glass pane he sees the bluest of blue skies, the sun high above. 

Where was he?

When he goes to sit up, he’s surprised to find that his wrists jingle with something heavy. He pulls his hands from under the colourful quilt and stares at the thick metal shackles. In the same moment he notices the black of his tattoos on the backs of his hands.

Vague memories come back to him as though from far away, not quite his own. 

But why was he here? And how long had he been out?

For the first time, he realizes he’s not cold. The realization makes him smile in spite of the chains. Dare he think it - he was even a little hopeful?

Strange. His tattoos were black as night, but something had changed.

He strains to listen, looking around the strangely beautiful room. He notices how oddly cozy it is with the overabundance of throw pillows in hand-carved wooden chairs painted different colours. There’s a small woven rug by the bed, and on the rug is a calico ferret cat. 

“Hey there.” Aang greets, and his voice cracks as he does. How long had it been since he’d last spoken?

Bright brown eyes blink up at him before the critter unfurls itself to stretch and get up. Aang watches as it makes its way to the round wooden door and leaves through a small flap at the bottom.

“Where are you going, buddy?” Aang asks as he goes to follow, which is when he learns the shackles around his wrists are linked to a sister pair around his ankles. He figures he should be more alarmed by this development, but it’s difficult to feel intimidated in such a magical space. He has to shuffle awkwardly around the shackles, but his curiosity is greater than his annoyance as he makes as much haste as he can. It takes him a long time to cross the room, and just as he reaches the door it swings open to reveal a small girl. Her dark hair is pulled back into a severe ponytail, and she’s dressed in what Aang can only describe as ceremonial robes. The top of her kimono is a striking white while her pants are a bright red. She can’t be more than ten.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” She says, and Aang sees the ferret cat climb onto her shoulder, squeaking happily as she gives it a little scritch between its ears. “Omi let me know.”

Aang smiles awkwardly, unable to really wave. Instead he bows.

“Uh, nice to meet you.” He says as he straightens. “Who are you? And, maybe more importantly, where am I?”

The girl appraises his shackles with a frown.

“Those simply must go.”

Then, she turns on her heel and marches into the next room without so much as acknowledging Aang’s question.

“Monkey feathers.” He grumbles as he proceeds the painstaking shuffle forward. His progress is so slow that before he so much as manages to get halfway down the little hallway to what he thinks must be the living room, the girl returns. Just as Aang opens his mouth to ask her more questions, he sees the familiar faces of his friends turn the corner.

“Guys!” 

“Aang! You’re awake!” Sokka exclaims. “I never thought I’d say this, but man am I glad to see your grey eyes again.”

Before Aang can ask Sokka what he means, he’s silenced by a too tight embrace. It’s all the more alarming because the one squeezing the air out of him is Zuko. He coughs a little, watching as Katara and Toph look on with mysterious smiles. Sokka looks just as bewildered as Aang feels.

“I’d hug you back, but…” Aang jokes, jingling the chain linking his shackles. 

“Oh right, sorry.” Zuko says sheepishly, letting him go and stepping back. “Toph?”

She steps forward, and with a simple flick of her wrist, the shackles come open and clatter to the floor.

“Hey! Mind your bending. This is softwood!” The girl scolds. Seemingly remembering herself, she turns back to Aang with a bow of her own.

“I’m terribly sorry for not answering your question earlier. I’m Atsuko, and this is my home.”

Aang meets Zuko’s eyes as he massages his wrists. It’s only then he notices the bruises on his neck, and suddenly he remembers everything.

“Oh Zuko…” Absentmindedly, he reaches out a tentative hand, brushing his fingers along the darkened skin. “I did this.”

Zuko catches his hand and shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. We have a lot to catch up on. We can do that while we eat. Atsuko was kind enough to prepare lunch for everyone.”

Aang doesn’t fail to notice that Zuko is still holding his hand.

“Oh, of course.” He says distractedly. “Lead the way.”

***

It turned out Atsuko was Chema’s niece, not only that, but her profession couldn’t have been more unexpected. At ten years old, she was already an accomplished exorcist.

“My uncle sent you to me, and when I saw you I immediately understood why! That’s a nasty spirit you’ve got with you. No manners either.”

Aang had to smile. Atsuko’s unflappable charm was a breath of fresh air after the grief of the last week.

“I’ve seen a few onryō before, but nothing like this one. She’s all twisted up from centuries of pain and anger. She’s going to be a difficult spirit to expel.”

“But I’m already feeling so much better. I thought maybe you were already exorcising her.” Aang muses, holding out his hands to show her his tattoos. 

“That’s just this place. It’s sacred. My sisters and I perform regular cleansing rituals to ensure it stays that way. I had to smudge the room you were in multiple times to quell the malice of your spirit. Lucky for you, even the angriest spirit is intimidated by enough burning sage.”

“Where are all your sisters now?” Katara asks.

“Oh, they just went into town to get food. They’ll be back this evening.” Atsuko replies, then turns her attention to Aang. “But we have no time to lolligag. We’re going to get started on the necessary purification rituals to get you ready for the exorcism.”

Aang nods slowly, taken aback by the ferocity in Atsuko’s hazel eyes.

“What do I have to do?” 

The girl regards him kindly.

“It won’t be easy, and we’re on a time limit. The day of the spirits is only a little over a month away, and you need to free yourself of all of your own darkness by then.”

“The day of the spirits?” Aang echoes. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Atsuko smiles. “Not many have. It’s a day that was once commemorated by many people of Itzayan, and some still observe it in other part of the Fire Nation. However, it’s an ancient practice that has been largely forgotten due to the one hundred year war. Only now are some of the old traditions being remembered.”

“So what’s the day of the spirits, anyway? Why’s it the time limit?” Toph chimes in.

“It’s one day in the year when the spirits of the dead can cross into the world of the living. It’s the perfect day for an exorcism because the doorway between worlds is open.”

“So the dead can come in, but they can also be sent out.” Sokka muses.

“Exactly right!” 

“When you say I need to be free of my own darkness, what do you mean?” Aang asks, bringing the conversation back around to the purification.

Bright hazel eyes fix on him with a look that’s far wiser than Atsuko’s years would suggest.

“Everyone carries darkness in them.” She says gently. “Yours has been amplified by the spirit you carry with you, but when I first saw you, I could feel the depth of your own grief. You’ve lost a great deal, haven’t you?”

Aang hadn’t been ready for the truth to be laid out so simply. He felt naked, like his heart were a book open to the darkest passages for all to read. He wishes he could close it shut and stow it somewhere deep where none could ever see it.

Unable to summon any words to aid him, he only nods. 

“We’ll start with something easy for today.” Atsuko says, smiling reassuringly. “It’s an exercise in acceptance and gratitude. It usually means accepting a smaller loss and focusing on being grateful for the gains you’ve had since. You’ll need to choose someone to walk you through it, because it needs to be someone you trust. Whoever you choose will ask you some questions I’ve prepared, and you must answer them honestly. By the end of the exercise, you’ll have opened the door to further purification and healing.”

Looking around at the faces of his friends, Aang's eyes land on the honey golden eyes and he smiles widely at Zuko sitting across from him.

***

Zuko was shocked when Aang had chosen him to ask Atsuko’s questions. They’d been instructed to bathe, then they were given crisp white robes to wear. Once they were dressed, Atsuko had led them to a little clearing with a bubbling creek running through it. She’d left Zuko with the questions he was to ask written on a scroll and headed back to the little cabin. 

He supposed it made sense. Katara couldn’t be the one he talked to for obvious reasons, and Toph and Sokka weren’t really the friends Aang contemplated the meaning of life with. Given that Zuko spent a lot of his time thinking about his place in the universe, he figured it wasn’t a leap to help Aang do the same.

More than that, though, he was happy Aang trusted him enough with something so intimate.

Atsuko had told them to sit facing each other, only about four feet apart. 

“Okay, I’m ready.” Aang says with determination. “You can start asking.”

Zuko eyes the first question and feels his heart sink. This was starting easy?

“What most recent personal experience makes you think of loss?”

Aang’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t balk.

“Breaking up with Katara.” He says sadly.

Atsuko had instructed him to get longer answers, but Zuko hated to have to be the one to extricate them. He knew how much losing Katara had affected Aang. He recalled a night when he had joined Aang looking out over the ocean of the headland upon which the palace towered. That night it rained enough to fill another ocean, but not one drop had come from the sky.

Awkwardly, Zuko tries to prompt Aang to say more.

“Could you go into a bit more detail?” He asks.

To his credit, Aang takes the request in stride.

“You know a lot of this already, but the end of our relationship felt like the end of an era for me. When I woke up after being frozen, Katara’s face was the first I saw. She was my first friend in a strange world that had moved ahead a hundred years. She was also my first love.” Here, Aang pauses, swallowing down the emotion bleeding into his voice. “Katara became my new home. Losing her felt like waking up after being frozen all over again, but this time, there was no smiling face guiding me forward.”

The sincerity in his words makes Zuko’s heart ache.

“I’m sorry, Aang. I can’t imagine how painful that must be.”

Aang’s smile is a small thing, but it’s enough.

“You okay to keep going?” Zuko asks.

“Yeah, I think so.”

So Zuko looks down at the next question and reads.

“What was the cause of your loss? Both the external reasons as much as any perceived.”

Aang’s expression clouds just slightly.

“I don’t like to let myself dwell on this..." He pauses as he looks up into the sky. "But if I’m honest, the reason... is that I’m the Avatar. Again, you know this better than anyone, but my title means I don’t really have a lot of time to settle down. It’s not long before I’m needed — whether it be for political meetings, or to help restore the balance between the human world and the spirit world."

Zuko nods sympathetically. He knew destiny's heavy burden all too well.

"Not only do I need to abandon what I'm doing to help bring balance, oftentimes my own life is in danger. I understand that as the Avatar I must face whatever threatens the peace of this world. But... Katara wanted a family, she wanted a life I couldn’t give her.” Zuko watches helplessly as Aang wipes his tears on the back of his sleeve. “And it’s not like I can just lay down my title and walk away. Even if I meet someone else, it’ll be the same problem. My duty as the Avatar has to come first.”

“I know.” Zuko answers without thinking.

“I know you do.” 

Zuko can’t bring himself to hold Aang’s bright grey gaze for long, so he seeks out the third question on the scroll.

“What are some things you have now that you may be taking for granted?”

Aang thinks about this for a long time.

“That’s a bit difficult to answer. If I’m taking it for granted, it’s not easy to identify.”

“Maybe it’ll help to list the things you’re grateful for and go from there?” Zuko suggests.

“Sure, that sounds like a good plan. I guess I’d have to start with Appa. He’s all the family I have left.”

“Are you sure about that?” Zuko asks, thinking he sees an opening.

Aang gives him a quizzical look, then his eyes brighten.

“Oh!” His smile is blinding. “You, Sokka, Toph and Katara are my found family. Of course I don’t take you for granted." 

There's a beat while he considers the question and Zuko waits patiently for him to find his words.

"But maybe my own grief got in the way of truly appreciating the depth of our relationships.”

Seeing the pained look on Aang's face makes Zuko panic. The way his eyes unfocus signals the beginning of a descent into dark waters thick with regret and self-reproach. Aang was quick to forgive all but himself.

“The next question basically asks you to go into more detail about why you’re grateful for the things you’ve taken for granted and what they mean to you.” Zuko says as casually as he can, looking up from the scroll. He keeps his tone light, quietly guiding Aang to stay with him in this moment.

So Aang does. He tells Zuko about all the ways he’s grateful for Sokka, how he’s like an older brother to him. The way he always knows what to say to make Aang laugh, the games they play together, and the trouble they got into when they were younger. He talks about Toph, and all the ways he admires her strength and tough love. He goes into detail about how he feels like he’s partially responsible for the rough patch she went through in her relationship with her parents. He talks about how much he’s learned from the differences in their personalities, and how much he appreciates Toph always standing by him. 

It’s with some difficulty that he begins to talk about Katara, afraid to stray too close to yearning.

“Atsuko said this is an exercise in acceptance.” Zuko reminds him. “I think she means for you to make peace with loss and move ahead.”

Aang nods and starts again.

This time, he’s able to openly talk about all the ways he’s grateful for Katara’s presence in his life. He spends the better part of an hour talking about how much he learned from her, and about all the ways he grew as a person by her side. 

“I realize that I’ve been holding onto my memory of Katara like I owned it, a little bit like I thought I had a right to expect forever.” He admits. “And I’ve spent the last three years avoiding my feelings about the break up because I didn’t want to let go. But now, I think maybe I can start.”

Zuko smiles at him then.

“I’m not done. I still need to talk about you.”

He feels his heart trip over itself as it beats out a dance in his chest.

“You don’t have to.” He says, his mouth suddenly dry.

“You’re maybe the one I’ve taken most for granted, Zuko. I’m sorry for that.” Aang says, and his eyes are open and bottomless, shining with honesty. “When you first joined us, you became my firebending teacher, and then one of my best friends. Over the years, especially after the break up with Katara, I lost sight of the relationships that mattered most to me. I’ve been so busy thinking I need to spend every waking moment fixing the world that I forget to maintain the parts of my life that don’t need fixing."

Zuko keeps his breathing even, though his heart hammers traitorously in his chest.

"You know what it’s like to be weighed down by heavy responsibility, but still you stand tall. You move forward, always working with the interest of your people in mind. You’ve always inspired me with your determination, Zuko. You have such a firm belief in the power of goodness that I can’t help but believe as well. Every time I see you, even if it is for political matters, I always come away feeling reenergized. It doesn’t matter how hard things are, or have been. You’re a source of strength for me to carry on, and I don’t think I’ve spent enough time making sure you know it.”

Zuko feels like he might just combust, and without thinking he lets his mouth run ahead of his head.

“Aang, I do know it. I just wish you knew how much you mean to me.”

The sentence comes out more raw than he means it to, and he watches with no small amount of horror as Aang’s expression changes to one of dawning realization.

_No. Oh no._

Surely he couldn’t be that perceptive. He tries to busy himself looking for more questions, but he's come to the end of the scroll.

“Zuko?” Aang asks. It’s a big question, and Zuko feels like he might be crushed under its weight. He curses the blood that rushes to his face, wishing he was better at lying. 

“Aang, I- I wasn’t planning on saying anything.”

Aang’s expression settles into understanding, all uncertainty dispelled.

“I’m sorry. It’s nothing you have to worry about.” Zuko pleads, forcing himself to meet Aang’s eyes.

“Zuko…” 

A thick silence settles between them, and Zuko feels regret coiling around his heart. 

"You've listened to me, the least I can do is listen to you." Aang says kindly. "I'm here."

Zuko's heart is racing, and it's all he can focus on as he begins to speak.

"Aang, I... The thing that scares me the most is the thought of losing what we have because of my feelings for you. I've... I fell a long time ago. I fell for your warmth and your charm. You say I'm strong, but I don't feel I can compare to you. You lost everything, but you still smile, you still find such joy in the every day. And even carrying all your own grief, you still work to lessen the suffering of others." He knows he's rambling, but having begun, he finds it difficult to stop. 

"Aang, you inspire me. You make me feel like even if the rest of the world wanted me dead, your faith in me would be enough to keep going. You make me believe that I can do what's right, and knowing that this new world of peace is something we're building together fills me with more pride than you know."

Aang looks stunned when Zuko has finished speaking. He seems to wait in case there's more, but Zuko has no words left, only the fluttering of his heart can be heard between them.

“Zuko, I..." He pauses, at a loss. "Thank you for telling me." 

And then... he laughs. It's a mirthful and melodious thing.

"I can't believe I never realized before now. I can't believe I was so lost in my own head that I never so much as thought about you as anything other than a friend."

“Aang, what are you…?”

He feels lost when Aang’s hand comes to rest on his.

“I’m realizing that I... would like to change that.”

Here, he scoots closer, ghosting his fingers over the bruises on Zuko’s neck once more.

“You’ve risked your life for me twice in the last week alone.” He says gently. “And you’ve saved me more times than I can count in our time as friends.”

Zuko swallows, not daring to move.

“You’ve saved me in more ways than you know, Aang.”

When Aang pulls his hand away, Zuko mourns the loss.

“I wish this could happen under happier circumstances.” He says as he holds out his arms so his tattoos are between them. 

Zuko shakes his head. “We’re going to make it out of this, just like we always do. That’s what matters right now. Everything else can wait."

Aang’s eyes shine with tears, and he leans in, wrapping his arms around Zuko’s shoulders in a tight hug. Zuko folds his arms around Aang’s waist, pulling him close. He holds him there, rubbing circles into his back. And Aang feels so warm against him, the weight and shape of him seemingly tailored specially for Zuko to mold himself to. 

"I'm grateful I'm the Avatar," Aang whispers, "because it meant I got to meet you."

And this small, beautiful moment, for now, is enough.


	16. The Request

The shadows conceal the figures on the rooftop, cloaked in dark robes under a darker sky. One signals to the other as they survey the quiet walkway overlooking the prison yard littered with untended patches of dry grass. 

Without a sound they drop down before the cell door, quiet but for the gentle breaths of its sole occupant. 

They exchange glances as one lights a small bomb as the prisoner readies himself to be sprung.

The blast cracks through the silence like thunder as smoke obscures the silhouette following the plumes of billowing smoke in the explosion’s wake, sailing gracefully under the night sky and down into the yard where his rescuers are ushering him through a hole in the prison wall. A heap of guards lay nearby — dead or unconscious, he doesn’t know, nor does he care.

Now, he thinks, to find the Avatar and end him. Properly this time.

He’d been careless, Kanaye thinks bitterly. He saw an opportunity to publicly and singlehandedly bring the Airbender’s tyranny to an end, but he was a fool not to consider those around him as more of a threat. His pulse races in his veins, heating with rage at the memory of the water tribesman who took him out with a single hit to the head.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Running through the trees, Kanaye and his two men reach a clearing where three horses stand waiting. Only three. Once they mount their horses, Kanaye watches as Li Jie and Hui Yin pull off their face coverings.

“Where’s Odajima?” 

Hui Yin shakes her head with a frown.

“He would not join us.”

Kanaye grunts. Of course. His brother had always been soft.

“We don’t need him.”

Li Jie clears his throat nervously. “Sir, I mean no disrespect, but what should we do if he opposes us?”

The question hangs in the silence of the clearing as Kanaye feels the heat in his veins pumping through his heart.

“Take him down.”

Both Li Jie and Hui Yin nod together before turning on their horses, kicking them into a gallop. Kanaye follows with a growl. 

His brother was a fool.

***

The news of Kanaye’s break out from the Itzayan prison reaches Zuko by messenger hawk only hours after it has occurred. Only Suki and Tai Lee know his location at the little cottage, a precaution Zuko took to hopefully avoid any further attacks. 

“He really has it out for you,” Sokka muses from his seat at the table of young exorcists, all dressed in the same white and red uniforms of their profession.

Zuko watches Aang carefully from across the table, gauging his reaction to the news. His brows knit together, the bright morning highlighting the bruises under his eyes. The result of recurring nightmares that had only become worse since the funeral.

“I should find him,” he says at length. “If it’s me he’s after, then I don’t want him targeting innocent people to draw me out.”

Atsuko leans forward to set down her tea cup with a harsh clink.

“Aang, you simply cannot leave now,” she warns. “If you do, Hisako’s spirit will consume you. We need to complete the cleansing rituals.”

“But the day of the spirits is still a month away,” Aang counters gently. “So much damage could be done in that time.”

Atsuko looks at her sisters helplessly and they nod back. The eldest sister, Kaede, gives Aang a kind smile.

“We understand that you have a duty to fulfill, Avatar, but as you are now, you will only hurt yourself and others.”

Aang’s expression falls but he doesn’t protest.

“Why don’t you leave it to us, Twinkle Toes?” Toph pipes up. “It’s not like we’re doing anything useful here anyhow.”

Sokka and Katara nod together. 

“Aang, we’ll see if we can find any clues as to where Kanaye is and what he’s planning.” 

Just as Zuko is about to agree, Katara holds up a hand.

“We need someone to stay here in case they find Aang,” hhe says gently. “Zuko, you’re just as much a target as Aang is. We might need you to lure them out if we can’t find them, but that’s a last resort.”

Zuko swallows.

“I understand. Remember that you have Suki and Tai Lee to help in your search as well.”

“Take Appa,” Aang offers with a weak smile. “He gets restless if he’s ground-bound too long anyway. You might need him.”

Aang looks tired. More tired than Zuko has ever seen him. The week since they’d come to the cottage had much improved his spirits, but his body stubbornly continued to deteriorate. The bruises under his eyes were darker, his usually full cheeks were hollow, and the line of his jaw was wrongly sharp. His collarbones were too prominent, and his tattoos almost gleamed tar-black. Sometimes Zuko could swear he saw them move of their own accord.

Katara smiles gratefully, but Zuko sees the sadness that slips into her eyes. She could see it too. They all could. Aang was running out of time.

Once everyone was fed and watered, Katara, Sokka and Toph load Appa up with their belongings and wave as they set off for Itzayan.

Zuko watches Aang hold a hand up in farewell as they go, and his heart aches at the emptiness he sees in his usually expressive grey eyes. It was like whatever was eating away at Aang’s body was eating away at his soul as well.

Aang catches him looking and offers a toothy grin before stretching his arms over his head exaggeratedly with a performative groan.

“Guess I better go find Atsuko. No time to waste.”

Zuko doesn’t smile back. He never did believe in Aang’s farce, and he hates that even after all these years he still tried to pretend he was fine when the opposite was plain. He bites his tongue against the retort that bubbles in his chest.

 _Not now,_ he chides, w _e can talk later._

The truth was that it hurt. He’d told Aang how he felt about him, and Aang had been so honest with him just a few days before. Now he was all empty smiles and reassurance. Zuko didn’t need reassurance — he needed Aang to trust him.

“Guess you better,” he manages bitterly. “Good luck.”

Aang quirks a brow at him, surely noticing the chill in Zuko’s delivery. He does nothing to acknowledge it, though; instead he turns and heads to the cottage.

***

In the early afternoon, Atsuko leads Aang back to the cool river and instructs him to lay in it. He uses bending to keep the gentle current from pulling him downstream and regulates his body temperature to the water. He feels the rough fabric of the crisp white robes against his skin as she prays over him with a haraigushi, the streamers twirling in the breeze as she moves. Aang focuses on her words, the feeling of the water surrounding his prone form. 

In time, all Aang can hear are the sounds of nature — the rushed whisper of the water flowing, the gentle whoosh of the wind rustling leaves, and the odd chirp or other animal sound in the distance. 

He feels like a part of him awakens from slumber, like his heart beats a little more fully, sending life coursing through his veins. He feels alive.

He gasps, his eyes flying open as he inhales to fill his lungs like a man who’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Spirits…” he sighs as he stares up into the blinding blue sky. It takes him a moment to realize that Atsuko is offering him a small hand. He takes it to be polite, but he’s careful to bear the brunt of his own weight as he gets to his feet. 

“What did you do?” he asks as he and Atsuko make their way to the grassy riverside. “I feel like I just woke up from a fever dream I didn’t know I was having.”

Atsuko smiles at him brightly. “That’s the purification ritual doing its magic. It dispels the darkness within you, but it’s only temporary. You need to use your time to do the hard part.”

Aang nods with new determination. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“This will be the most difficult part of your journey.” She tells him, eyes shining with intensity. “You must reach deep inside yourself to face the darkest of your feelings. You must learn to see them clearly, and most importantly, to separate your grief from that of the spirit that resides within you.”

Aang cocks his head curiously. “Haven’t I been doing that all along?”

Atsuko’s gaze darkens as her mouth settles into a fine line.

“You’ll know that’s not the case when you look in on yourself.”

Aang feels a chill dance up his spine, giving him gooseflesh on his neck. 

“You’ll need to meditate alone. I’ll leave you, but if you need help, I won’t be far.”

She gives him a small wave before turning to leave, and Aang waits until she’s disappeared beyond the trees before settling into the lotus position with a hand resting on each of his knees.

The world around him seems to draw into an unnatural stillness as he counts his breaths. The clarity from the cleansing has his senses turned up so high that he can almost hear the way his blood travels in his veins, the way each individual blade of grass moves with the wind. He could swear he could even identify the wingbeat of a bird overhead.

He feels overwhelmed by the present moment, the immediacy and omnipresence of it. 

And then he _feels_.

His chest clenches as all at once a heaviness settles in his bones, pulling him down, as though wanting to claw him below ground. To bury him.

He knows there’s no physical reason for the sensation. There is no external force acting upon him, but this pull comes from somewhere deep. 

He’s surprised when he realizes he’s angry.

_But why?_

Angry at what?

His pulse begins to pick up speed, but he’s not sure if it’s the realization that he’s upset, or the way he fears the loss of conscious understanding of his own emotions.

Not only is he angry, he realizes. He’s furious.

 _But how?!_ Another part of him seems to demand. _I don’t even know what I’m furious about._

Two emotions war within him — fury and confusion — and he fights to understand their origin.

_Is this mine?_

But he knows it is. 

He feels hot, he wants to break the world around him. He could. He knows he could. With the might of a fist and a well-placed foot, he could level the entire valley.

A part of him wishes he would.

“Oh god.” 

Aang rises from his position and begins to run. 

He runs and he runs and he runs. 

He runs until he feels like his legs might give out; he doesn’t know how far.

When he finally stops to gasp for breath, he closes his eyes to feel his position in relation to the creek, the valley and the cottage. He'd gone a long way into the hills, so far from the cottage he knew it would be a long trek back.

Finally, he lets himself scream.

He screams into the sky, willing his voice to carry his anger, his pain — away from him. 

When his throat is raw, he stops. Angry tears stream down his cheeks and he scrubs them away on the back of his arm, too tired to be upset with himself anymore. He’s grateful for the exhaustion that settles in his marrow. Anything was better than the rage.

With a single breathy sob, Aang begins the walk back to the valley. Each step feels weighed down with grief and shame; the heaviness of his heart overwhelmed him. Not even the cheerful birdsong or the gentle caress of a warm breeze lent their usual comforts. 

Idly, Aang wondered if he would survive the month. In a darker corner of his mind, deeper and hidden, he wondered if he had the willpower left to keep going. 

***

“How did you do?” Atsuko asks, but she looks like she knows the answer.

Aang shakes his head.

Atsuko looks at him sympathetically before she turns to lead them back to the cottage.

“A little food should help,” she says kindly. “It’s okay, Aang. The first time is the hardest.”

“And the times after that?”

She considers. “Still hard, but you know what to expect. The feelings inside you aren’t just your own, though it feels like they are.”

“What does it mean?” Aang asks, but he’s afraid he already knows.

“It means your spirit is bonding to Hisako’s. The next month will be bitter work for you. Separating the bond between a human spirit and an onryō’s is one of the most dangerous spiritual battles anyone can fight. Because, after the bonding has begun, it’s like you’re fighting yourself in a sense. It’s difficult to know where your own soul ends and the onryō’s begins.”

“So all my anger… is Hisako’s?” 

Atsuko shakes her head.

“Only the intensity with which you feel it is related to the spirit you carry with you. Your anger is your own.”

An icy arrow of fear pierces his heart, and Aang stops dead.

“Atsuko. I wanted to bring this valley to the ground. You’re telling me that was my desire?”

Bright hazel eyes look up at him sadly, but she gives a small nod.

“I can’t go back to the cottage with you. What if I-"

Atsuko catches him by the wrist before he can begin to back away.

“You already know what will happen if you leave. Besides, the cottage is the safest place you can be right now. There is no purer energy to surround yourself with than that of mine and my sisters. You won’t harm us.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Aang allows the girl to lead him the rest of the way over the sloping hillside to the little cobbled pathway to the cottage overlooking the coulee.

Lost in his own despair, Aang doesn’t notice Zuko sitting by the door carving something out of wood until Atsuko releases his wrist. She gives him a small bow before heading inside the cottage. Zuko stands once Atsuko has closed the door behind her and takes a few steps to cross the distance between them.

“You look…” Mercifully, Zuko doesn’t finish his sentence. “Are you alright?”

“I… don’t know.” 

It’s as honest an answer as he can give, and he’s surprised at the way Zuko’s amber eyes soften at his admission. He watches as Zuko awkwardly holds his arms out.

“Katara always seemed to do this when you were… um.”

Zuko is the picture of contradiction — his arms open and waiting, but his expression twisting with uncertainty. The image of him tickles Aang’s heart as he bursts out into the first fit of mirthful laughter in a long time.

“Thanks Zuko,” he says as he steps into the circle of Zuko’s arms and allows himself to be hugged. It starts off mechanically with Zuko holding him like he’s made of glass, but Aang rolls his eyes and squeezes encouragingly.

“Hugs work best when both parties participate enthusiastically,” he teases through his laughter, and he hears Zuko scoff before he pulls Aang closer.

“That’s more like it.” He rests his chin on Zuko’s shoulder and sways absentmindedly with him. The comfort of Zuko’s proximity makes it so he doesn’t want to let go.

“Uh, Aang?” Zuko asks with barely concealed discomfort. 

“Sorry!” He exclaims as he steps back, Zuko’s arms parting to let him leave without resistance. “I do feel better, though.”

Zuko smiles at him warmly. “I’m glad.”

Aang thinks about teasing Zuko for his lack of hugging ability, but decides against it. He’d help Zuko practice the subtle way. Plus, Aang was starting to realize he didn’t need much of an excuse to be close to the man. If hugging casually was on the table, he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“We should offer to help make dinner,” he says at last, and Zuko nods as they make their way into the little cottage. And just as Atsuko had said, Aang feels like he can breathe easier the moment he sets foot over the threshold.

  
***

_He wades through black pools of something thick and viscous, his feet dragging as he tries to lift them higher. Though he tries to tell himself otherwise, he knows the thickness and the smell. It is blood, blackened with malice and time._

_He fears what he’ll find in the depths of this inky abyss, heavy with despair._

_It isn’t long before he sees the familiar glow of a white kimono, stained black and torn at the hem. Hisako stands hunched, facing him, but her hair hides her face._

_There is something between them that Aang can sense. Though they undoubtedly occupy the same space, there is a separation that wasn’t there before. When Aang reaches out a hand, he’s met by an invisible force between himself and the spectre. It’s warm to the touch and ripples with light as he taps it with a finger._

_“Hisako?” he asks quietly._

_At first, she does not answer. One mottled hand points into the inky substance at Aang’s feet and reluctantly, he looks down._

_He feels his throat clench as the surface bubbles briefly before breaking. The back of a pale head rises, bobbing eerily. Aang's stomach lurches when he recognizes the faded blue ink of the airbending master's tattoo. He bites back a small sound as the head turns to reveal the empty sockets of Gyatso's face stare up at him with rivulets of black blood streaming down his leather skin. A skeletal hand comes up to reach for Aang just as he steps back, only to find that he was surrounded. Bodies rose to the surface in droves — the faces of his people; the skin that wasn’t singed pallid and putrefying. The smell makes Aang gag as he feels the tears burning in his eyes._

_Enraged, he lifts his gaze from the dead faces of his people to the opaque black eye staring at him just a few feet away. He doesn’t notice the way the black blood seems to be draining, though when he takes his next step towards Hisako, the sole of his foot comes down into a puddle where there was once a lake. The bodies have disappeared, but as he looks down once more, he gasps._

_His body is absorbing the blood. Tendrils lift into the air flowing into him via his tattoos until not even dregs are left._

_When he looks up at Hisako, her black mouth is cut into a jagged grin. She steps towards him, and the barrier separating them is gone. He knows he should move away, he should run, he should do something to protect himself._

_But he doesn’t._

_It’s not that he can’t. He knows he could move if he tried._

_He’s horrified when he takes a step towards Hisako, his arms extended to her in welcome. He feels her cold arms slip around his neck, her long tangled hair tickling his arms as they embrace._

_And then Aang watches from above, beyond himself._

_He watches as his body bubbles like black tar, and deathly mottled skin folds into his pale tan, melting together where they touch. Their bodies fuse, as black blood rises to fill the space between them like melted gold in the cracks of a broken vase._

**_Tear them._ **

_Burn them._

**_Rip them apart._ **

_Do as they did._

**_“Kill them all.”_ **

_And it’s with dawning horror that he hears the words coming from his own throat._

***

Aang wakes up screaming, fighting off the weight of a foreign body. He thrashes, clawing blindly at the darkness until he feels his nails dig into soft skin that isn’t his own.

“Aang,” comes Zuko’s measured tone from next to his bed. “You’re safe. It’s me.”

Registering that he’s digging his nails into Zuko’s forearm, Aang quickly releases him. He tries to speak, but he's still breathless. He feels his chest heave as he fights to fill his lungs, forcing himself to inhale through his nose and exhale through his mouth. It’s only once he’s breathing normally that Zuko rests a hand on his back, rubbing in circular motions over his bare skin.

Aang fights the instinct to shrug him away. He feels unclean, afraid that whatever is inside him might be contagious. Zuko must notice how the muscles in his back tighten because he stops and pulls his hand away.

“Aang, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No, that’s not- 

Aang swallows down a sob.

“I need some air.” 

Zuko moves aside to let him stand, staying rooted to the spot as Aang pulls on the rest of his robes. But he doesn’t move to follow when Aang makes his way to the bedroom door.

“Would you keep me company?” Aang asks over his shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper.

He watches as Zuko’s shoulders relax and they make their way through the cottage as quietly as they can. Once outside, Aang looks for the highest spot they might reach in the shortest time; his air nomad heart begging to be closer to the sky.

It was a clear night, and Aang thanks Yue quietly for lighting the way to a far off cliff overlooking the lush valley beyond the cabin. He and Zuko set out together wordlessly, and Aang is grateful for the silence. They walk side by side, and it’s not long before Zuko understands where they’re headed. Arguably, Zuko knew Aang better than anyone, and he understood that nothing eased his mind the way the sky did. 

It feels like no time has passed when they do reach the cliff, but the first rays of grey dawn tell Aang that it’s been at least an hour of walking. He stands looking up into the face of the moon and lets his tears run freely down his face. 

“Aang…” 

“Zuko… I’m losing myself.”

Losing himself to what, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“What do you mean?” The fear in Zuko’s tone is barely concealed.

Aang shakes his head, turning to face his companion with a hollow smile.

“There is poison inside me, I think,” he croaks, reaching for words to describe how he feels. “Or something like poison. It’s… I think I know what Atsuko was talking about. My darkness?”

Zuko’s eyes glow impossibly golden under the bright stars. He’s standing close, but there’s a decided stiffness in the way he stands, like he’s fighting to stay still. 

“I… felt like I was twelve again.” He continues. “When I found Gyatso’s remains at the Southern Air Temple, I was filled with so much pain and rage that I went into the Avatar state for the first time.”

He balls his fists at his sides, letting his eyes fall to the black arrows on the backs of his hands and bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to make himself bleed.

“But this time, I…”

The moment is cut short as Aang feels himself pulled against Zuko’s chest, and strong arms circle around his back. 

“I can’t stand to see you like this.” Zuko whispers against his cheek. “I know the look in your eyes. I’ve lived it. You can’t hate yourself. You taught me that, remember?”

“But Zuko… I…” He can’t stop the sob that tears through him this time, so he buries his face in Zuko’s shoulder, crying into the fabric of his robes. “There is so much rage inside me, and it’s begging me to let it out. I feel like I could hurt people, Zuko. If I saw someone from Ozai’s army right now, I don’t know that I could stop myself from…” 

_From killing them._

He sobs again.

He had _willingly_ fused with Hisako — inviting her own grudge to fuel his own. He’d seen it. Worst of all, he’d felt the way he _wanted_ her with him.

“Zuko, I’m not who you think I am… I want to do terrible things, and maybe I’ve always wanted to, but I was so good at lying to myself-"

“No, Aang. You’re wrong.”

Zuko has pulled back so his eyes are pouring into Aang’s with such intensity that he thinks he might burn from the inside out.

“I know you. Even when you had the chance to take revenge- Agni, you were encouraged to kill my father by everyone, even me. You could have, Aang. No one would have judged you for it, but you stood by your beliefs. You spared the man who dedicated his life to wiping out your people.”

Aang feels his face heat as Zuko lifts a hand to cup his cheek.

“Whatever you think you are, Aang, you’re wrong. You’re the Avatar, you’re light incarnate. You’re the reason anyone has hope anymore. Because that’s who you are: you’re the man who sacrifices everything to help those in need, no matter the personal cost.”

Zuko’s other hand cups the base of his neck, and he’s so close Aang can feel his breath on his skin.

“You need to stop sacrificing yourself, Aang. I know you’d never admit it, but you think you have to shoulder the burden of this world alone. You don’t.”

The light changes around them as pale morning chases away the indigo night, and Aang sighs as he closes his eyes, wraps his arms around Zuko’s waist and kisses him. 

He’s surprised by the sureness of Zuko’s lips against his own, shocked by the ferocity and passion with which they meet. He feels Zuko’s hand tighten around the column of his neck, pulling him closer with his other arm wrapped around his shoulders.

_Zuko…_

Zuko’s name. Zuko’s scent. The way Zuko feels. The way Zuko tastes. 

And Aang begins to lose himself in a new way, falling down, down and down into the arms around him and the lips that kiss him with such gentleness despite the way his own mouth fights to be closer — deeper.

Zuko gasps, coming up for air with a crooked grin on his face. He traces the line of Aang’s jaw with his thumb, cocking his head adorably as he smiles.

“Zuko…” He doesn’t know what else to say, but he doesn’t need to because Zuko leans in to kiss him again; softer this time, sweet and chaste, before pulling away.

“Aang, before anything else, you’re my best friend. You’ve saved my life countless times, and you’ve always been there for me when I needed you.” His eyes are softer than Aang has ever seen them, filled with tenderness and something else. He rests their foreheads together with a sigh and closes his eyes. Aang nearly goes cross-eyed trying to keep his focus on Zuko’s face, but he gives in and closes his own eyes as well.

“And after best friend?” Aang prompts quietly.

“I don’t know if that’s for me to decide,” Zuko whispers, but there’s a smile in his tone.

Pulling back enough so he can meet Zuko’s eyes again, Aang tightens his arms around his waist and laces his fingers together behind his back.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “As I am now… I’m not really myself.”

“I should be the one asking you that.”

Aang pauses, because really Zuko had a point. If anyone should be dictating their pace, it should be him. He searched his feelings, grateful that the rage in him was currently dormant. Could Zuko be the one to thank for that?

“I feel… Zuko, I know this is a strange thing to say, but being with you now, I feel safer. Maybe it’s because I know you’d stop me if I tried anything, and maybe it’s because you’re like an anchor to reality for me. These last few weeks I’ve felt untethered, drifting away from myself so slowly I barely notice how far away I am until I look back and it’s too late.”

He sighs as he cups the left side of Zuko’s face, gently running his thumb over the seam of his scar. He smiles just slightly when Zuko doesn’t flinch away.

“Can I be selfish and ask you to remind me who I am if I forget?”

_To keep me here when I feel untethered?_

Zuko looks like he might melt as his shoulders relax, his hands resting at the base of Aang’s neck.

“I would… like to be that.” He stammers. “For you.”

And they kiss again, one last time, before heading back to the cottage hand-in-hand.

He knew there was still a long road ahead for them. The cleansing rituals. The loyalist movement. The exorcism. But Zuko had been right — Aang had thought it was his responsibility to bear the bulk of the load alone. Now with Zuko’s hand in his, he felt he could stand just a little taller, smile a little brighter and bear to face the days ahead. 

He wasn’t alone.


	17. Love and Friendship

It was too late to go back to sleep and too early to do much more than sit outside and watch the sunrise by the time Zuko and Aang were back at the little cottage. It wouldn’t be long until the sisters were up and industriously going about their daily chores. 

Instead, Zuko takes the opportunity to steal sideways glances at Aang as the morning light creeps over the hills, pouring into the valley like liquid gold. They sit in the tall grass with their shoulders pressed together, and Aang’s eyes are brilliant in their clarity. Zuko had never allowed himself to imagine this version of reality. He’d all but resigned himself to the idea that it would never be anything but fanciful foolishness. And yet, here he was watching the sunrise with Aang after their first kiss. 

“You’re beautiful, Aang.”

He feels shy saying the words, but in this secret moment between them, they’re for Aang’s ears only. And damned if he was going to withhold this small happiness from the man who had already suffered so much.

He watches with almost childish glee as telling pink spreads up Aang’s neck and over his cheeks, and Zuko has to laugh as the Avatar actually hides his face in his hands.

“I wasn’t ready for that,” he says, voice muffled under his palms.

This was a side of Aang that Zuko had only seen second-hand before, and the fact that Aang’s reaction is entirely Zuko’s doing only makes the affection in his chest grow larger still.

Aang always had worn his heart on his sleeve. Vulnerability wasn’t a foreign concept to him, but the way he looks now is a different kind of vulnerable that Zuko couldn’t have dreamed up if he tried. There was a sensuality about Aang that he hid from the world, but here in the absence of prying eyes, Aang lets a hand fall over Zuko’s, propping his face up with the other as he smiles warmly.

Zuko leans over to plant a kiss on Aang’s exposed shoulder, realizing too late that the contact might be a little too intimate too soon. He feels Aang shudder, but he doesn’t pull away or tell him to stop. Experimentally, Zuko allows himself to linger on the soft skin there, trailing his lips only just beyond the curve of Aang’s shoulder into the dip leading to his neck. He stops, waiting for a reaction. When none is forthcoming, Zuko lifts his eyes only to have the vision of Aang bathed in glowing light steal his breath away. 

Aang has his neck bared to Zuko, his head leaning away with his eyes half-lidded, his lips barely parted. It’s then that Zuko wonders if he ever truly knew Aang. Or rather, he did know a part of him and had forgotten to think there was so much more. It wasn’t that he ever thought Aang lacked depth, but keeping his imagination in check had meant certain musings were off-limits.

Though nothing appealed to him more than the thought of learning more of Aang’s secrets, there was a serenity to the innocence of their courtship that made Zuko want to savour the small things. So rather than push Aang down to ravage him, he stretches his arm around his shoulders and pulls him into the grass so they’re laying together, watching the sun make its slow climb into the sky. 

He feels Aang nestle into his side with a contented sigh. 

“Your mind is somewhere else, isn’t it?” Zuko asks, never taking his eyes off the profile next to him.

Aang turns his head to face him, smiling guiltily.

“You caught me.” 

“Where are you?”

Aang laces the fingers of their free hands together over his heart, his eyes lowered.

“I’m thinking about the future.”

“What about it?”

Aang inhales deeply, resting his head on Zuko’s chest.

“I wonder if there will be one for me beyond the exorcism.” 

The simplicity of his answer makes Zuko want to smile and cry at the same time. For all of Aang’s innate honesty and openness, he didn’t offer up his fears and doubts easily. To have him be so earnest was an honour, but it also meant hearing things Zuko wasn’t prepared for.

He’d only just crossed the threshold into the hidden world of Aang’s heart. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, and his heart, so soon.

Squeezing Aang’s hand in his, Zuko presses a kiss to the black line travelling over the slope of the his head. He’s surprised at himself. He’d never expected the easy comfort of their closeness, how effortless it was to hold Aang, to kiss him.

“This is just the beginning,” he says meaningfully, and Aang shifts so he can meet Zuko’s eyes. 

_Gods, his eyes. His beautiful grey eyes._

The memory of the same eyes, but tar-black, flashes across his mind. He winces, shuddering involuntarily.

“Now you’re the one who’s somewhere else,” Aang points out.

Reluctantly, Zuko extricates his hand from Aang’s to bring it up to cup his face, rubbing his thumb in small circles over his temple.

“A bad memory, that’s all.” 

Aang watches him intently, grey eyes searching his as though he might learn which memory he’s hiding if he looks long enough.

“I’m just admiring your eyes,” Zuko says by way of a hint. They still hadn’t talked about Aang’s possession, and while Zuko wasn’t in a hurry to open an old wound, he wanted to extend Aang the offer to talk about it if he needed to.  
  
Of course Aang clues in immediately, no doubt recalling Sokka’s similar declaration after waking up in chains.

“Ah. That memory.”

He lifts his hand to Zuko’s neck, brushing his fingers over the skin where finger-shaped bruises have mostly faded away.

“I hate that I did that to you.”

“Aang, it wasn’t you.”

Grey eyes fix on his in wordless defiance. _It was me,_ they say.

 _It wasn’t,_ Zuko’s say back.

“Hisako did this. Not you.”

Seeing Aang open his mouth to protest, Zuko silences him with a kiss. He deliberately runs the seam of Aang’s lips with his tongue, hoping it’ll be enough of a distraction to keep him from arguing further. He’s not surprised when Aang doesn’t open to him, so he pulls away.

Once bottomless grey eyes turn guarded. “Please Zuko, not like that.”

“Then stop blaming yourself,” Zuko counters. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Finally, Aang sighs in resignation.

“Alright. Maybe you’re right.”

“Not maybe. I am.”

Aang is silent for a long time before he speaks again.

“What do you think went wrong?” he asks at last. “We had the funeral. Why didn’t it put Hisako’s soul to rest?”

“I don’t know,” Zuko answers with a sigh of his own.

“Though something does feel different,” Aang continues. “Different from before the funeral, I mean.”

Since the funeral things had decidedly gotten worse.

“Avatar Wang Xiu Ying said something about separating the girl from the ghoul…”

The speed with which Aang sprung up to sitting should’ve given him whiplash. Airbenders were made of more flexible stuff, Zuko supposed. 

“Zuko! That’s it!” He twists to look down at him, his eyes wide with his epiphany. “Hisako’s human spirit is gone. That’s why I blacked out as soon as the funeral rites were completed.”

Zuko props himself up on his elbows, quickly catching the thread of Aang’s thoughts.  
  
“So what you’re saying is that her grudge is what’s been left behind.”

Aang nods. “That’s right.”

He sounds strangely chipper for someone learning that he has the ancient evil of a centuries old grudge living inside him.

“Zuko! This means we’re moving in the right direction. We did the right thing!”

Discovery after discovery, Zuko thinks. Aang needed to know he was making real progress, and now that he did, he was alive with new enthusiasm. Before Zuko can respond, Aang descends on him in a kiss that sends fire into his veins. Aang’s lips crash into his, and Zuko doesn’t even think before opening to him. When he tastes Aang’s tongue in his mouth, he feels heat pool in the pit of his stomach, and he’s too overcome to fight the groan that escapes him as desire begins to take shape in his mind.

 _Spirits._ He thinks helplessly as Aang claims his mouth with a passion that makes fireworks explode behind his lids. 

“Aang,” he breathes, gently squeezing his shoulders in warning, “if you keep this up…”

He can feel his face flushing, and he must be red because when Aang sees him, he bursts into gleeful laughter.

“I’m so…” — he struggles breathlessly as his laughter tapers into a chuckle — “so sorry, Zuko. I didn’t mean to.”

Puffing out his cheeks, Zuko runs a hand through his hair as he sits up. Once all wayward strands are out of his eyes, he spends the next few moments composing himself.

“That good, huh?” Aang asks cheekily from beside him.

“Shut up,” Zuko retorts with a smirk.

Aang shrugs, grinning with impish delight as he dances his fingers down Zuko’s thigh to his knee where he lets his hand come to rest.

“The day of the spirits is a month away,” Aang says with new determination as he looks out into the fully bright morning. “If I can learn to separate myself from Hisako’s grudge by then, the exorcism should go smoothly.”

Zuko nods. “You can do it. You’re “Great Bridge Guy”, remember?” 

Aang chuckles and gives a nod of his own before he rises to his feet, pulling Zuko up with him by the hand.

“We better get back inside before Atsuko starts wondering where we’ve gone.”

***

Zuko spends the rest of his morning helping the sisters tend to their duties — weeding their gardens growing with all manner of fresh vegetables including impressively sized pumpkins near ready for harvest. The sisters fawn over him like proud aunties, complimenting him on the elegance with which he works. He blushes at the praise, ducking his head to hide his reddened face as he focuses on digging up the weeds at the root. It’s early afternoon by the time he’s done.

Aang had gone with Atsuko right after they’d washed up all the dishes used for breakfast. He’d been gone for a few hours, and he would likely not return for a few more.

Zuko hated to admit it, but he missed him already. 

Still, he had much work to do. Each day since his arrival at the cottage, a hawk came from the palace laden with thick scrolls filled with requests for the Fire Lord’s seal. Using the table in the room he and Aang were staying in, he poured over the scrolls carefully, making notes as he went so he wouldn’t miss anything in his replies. Much of it was thankfully nothing more than the everyday drudgery of running a country — organizing meetings, approving construction project proposals for modernizing Fire Nation infrastructure, or authorizing the release of funds to help grow the economies of smaller Fire Nation towns and villages by investing in the development of local industries. 

As he goes through the paperwork, he unfurls a shorter scroll with just a few neatly scrawled lines. As he reads, his eyes widen in surprise.

_Fire Lord Zuko,_

_I write to you on behalf of the veterans of the One Hundred Year War who still wish to live out the rest of our days in peace. Though I understand my brother has betrayed his nation, I hope you will not punish the innocent for his crimes. There are still hundreds of men and women who need your help._

_I am forever your humble subject._

_Odajima, Reo_

Zuko is about to pen his response when arms wrap around him from behind. He nearly jumps, but the familiarity of Aang’s scent wipes away all his apprehension.

“Aang, you’re back late,” He says as he looks out the window into an infinite dusky sky.

“Yeah.” 

Aang was the kind of person who anticipated questions, answering unasked questions intuitively like he could read people's minds. This one-word reply felt like speaking to an imposter. He said it like he was too weary to say more.

Zuko turns in his chair and stands to offer Aang a hug, doing what now felt natural and right. Aang accepts the hug gratefully, letting himself be pulled close.

He feels wrong in Zuko's arms — sharper, less substantial. The Avatar was a strong man. Aang was a strong man. But as Zuko held him, overly careful, he wondered if maybe Aang's bones weren't hollow like a bird's after all.

“How’d it go?” he asks as he breathes him in.

“Better,” Aang replies with a sigh. “I think I’m beginning to see where the line is between Hisako and I.”

“You sound exhausted.”

Aang pulls back with a weak smile as he nods. “Yeah. You’d be amazed what a few hours of navigating emotional extremes can do to a person.”

Looking at Aang now, it struck Zuko how different his impression was of the airbender's smile. Aang smiled in spite of his suffering, and Zuko was starting to understand that it was more than a gesture offered to reassure others. It seemed Aang's smiles were as much meant to reassure himself.

Without giving it much thought, Zuko guides Aang to his bed where he gestures for him to lay down. 

“I’ll get you something to eat. Just rest for now.”  
  
“Thanks Zuko,” he mumbles sleepily before yawning and stretching out over the multicoloured quilt, “you’re the best.”

***

Apologizing to the sisters for Aang’s absence, Zuko helps them prepare a vegetable stew and ladles two bowls full once it’s ready. He thanks them with a bow that earns him fond giggles and teasing before he takes his leave to return to where Aang sleeps.

It would almost be a shame to wake him, Zuko thinks. Aang is laid out with a hand folded over his chest, the other palm-up by his head. He looks so peaceful. But, Zuko reminds himself, he needed to eat. Putting both bowls down on the table next to his neatly arranged scrolls, Zuko lays a gentle hand on Aang’s shoulder.

“Hey, I have dinner for you.” 

He wondered when he might be comfortable calling Aang by an affectionate term. It was a little early for pet names, but he wondered what might fit. Nothing he could think of off the top of his head felt right, but he supposed it would come with time. 

Time. He revelled in the thought of the future. At least he hoped there was a future beyond the exorcism.

He hated to think it, but… what if the next month was all they had?

It’s then that Aang opens his eyes, groaning groggily as he sits up.

“Something smells delicious,” he says, his speech slurring with the remnants of sleep. Zuko smiles and pushes the bowl into his hands.

“Vegetable stew.”

Aang tucks in with enthusiasm, and this at least is something Zuko doesn’t have to worry about. Aang’s appetite seemed to be healthy as far as he could tell. It was a good sign. He recalled many times over his years knowing Aang when he’d foregone food because he was too preoccupied otherwise. Taking his own bowl, Zuko too begins to eat.

They chat a little as they carry spoonfuls to their mouths. Aang recounts his experience meditating, exploring the worst parts of his experience with a lightheartedness only he was capable of.

“It’s strange. After Atsuko performs the cleansing ritual in the river, it’s like my senses are turned up so high I can hear and feel everything. It’s almost like being in the Avatar state, except I’m not. When I’m left alone to meditate, that’s when I hear my emotions. Is that strange? To hear them? Because that’s what it feels like.”

Zuko only nods to let Aang know he’s listening, not wanting to interrupt.

“And it all hits me at once. Suddenly I’m so angry I want to bend a crater into the ground to take the whole valley with it, and just as suddenly I’m so sad I could just lie down and cry myself to sleep. And it just goes like that for what feels like forever.”

“Do you know what you’re angry about?” Zuko asks.

Aang gives a small nod.

“I’m angry at myself.”

Zuko watches him without moving, willing him to continue.

“For not being there for my people when they needed me. You know last night?”

“Your nightmare?”

Aang nods again.

“I dreamed that I invited Hisako’s grudge to fuse with my spirit after seeing the corpses of the people I loved at my feet. I don’t know if it was a dream. A part of me suspects it really happened. Somewhere inside me there’s a part of my soul that’s bonded to Hisako’s grudge. The last couple days by the river I’ve wanted to externalize my anger by taking it out on the world around me. I feel like I need a target or something.”

“Like having an outlet for your rage at yourself,” Zuko supplies knowingly, and Aang blinks at him before comprehension dawns on his face.

“Of course you’d know what that’s like.”

Zuko nods. “It’s hard.”

“How did you do it?”

“With help.”

Aang turns his attention to the last spoonful of stew, and once the bowl is empty he clambers out of bed to set it on the table before returning. As he does, he lays a hand over Zuko’s.

“Then I’ll do the same.”

Zuko smiles at him. “I wish I were half as wise as Uncle was because I might know what proverb to share. But all I can do is speak from my experience. When I was sixteen and bursting with anger and resentment, I only learned to transform that energy after meeting Ran and Shaw with you. It’s like that, I guess.”

Aang smiles at him gently from where he sits on the edge of the bed. “I suppose Atsuko is right, then. I need to take a better look inside myself."

Here Aang pauses, holding his hands out to look into his palms like he might summon some new source of his own.

"Zuko... looking at myself this way is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

Zuko watches as Aang lets his hands drop to his knees, leaning his head back to look up at the eclectic collection of decor on the ceiling.

"I knew I was angry about the genocide of my people. Of course. I knew I was sad, but..." — he closes his eyes and inhales deeply — "I never let myself feel it. Not like I've felt it the last few days. It's the most painful experience I've ever had to endure. And I don't say that lightly."

There's something painfully distant in Aang's faraway look that makes Zuko hesitate before he reaches to touch his shoulder. What was there to be said? Aang's loss was something he could never comprehend the depths of. How could one person ever process the loss of an entire culture?

"Wait," Zuko finds himself saying, slowly, “Aang, have you… this might seem like a strange question, but have you ever properly grieved the loss of your people?”

Grey eyes move to regard him thoughtfully for a long time. After a small sigh, Aang replies, “I’ve spent a lot of time regretting not being there for them, and I’ve spent more than a few nights laying awake thinking about them. I miss them all the time. I feel like I've never stopped grieving them.”

"Aang, I'm sorry, that's not what I meant," — he pulls his hand away to lace his fingers together in his lap — "I just think about my own experience after Uncle passed. Before I saw him in the spirit world, I mean. The first six months after he was gone were agony, but as time wore on, the pain was still there, just… quieter. All because we had a funeral for him, we laid him to rest. I was able to say goodbye. You never had that with your people.”

Aang shakes his head sadly. “There wasn’t much left to bury when I found them.”  
  
“You don’t need a body to have a funeral,” Zuko notes. “Why don’t we try it? We could have a small memorial for the air nomads right here in this valley. I’m sure Sokka, Katara and Toph could make their way back for another day.”

Aang looks unsure, but he’s not dismissing the idea.

“I don’t really know where to start. I don’t have anything with me from air nomad culture.”

“I’m sure Suki could send some our way if she asked the Air Acolytes,” Zuko asserts brightly.

It’s a moment before Aang responds.

“Okay. Let’s try it. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about air nomad funeral rites. It would be nice to have a chance to honour them.”

“Of course. A good place to start is with a eulogy. I know writing Uncle’s was especially therapeutic. If you take your time and let the words flow naturally, it can be an effective way to express a lot of your grief on paper.”

“I guess I never did that," — Aang rests his chin on his fist — “Thank you, Zuko. I'll give this more thought and get in touch with everyone about preparations.”

Zuko simply smiles in response.

Setting his own empty bowl down, he feels the way his own body begs for rest. He goes to move towards his own bed at the other side of the room when he feels a gentle hand on his arm.

“Do you, uh, want to try this bed out?” Aang asks with a blush dusting his cheeks. “The quilt is really soft.”

Zuko can barely fight the smile that paints his face as he goes to blow out the candle he’d lit when they’d started eating. 

“The quilt is the draw, then?” he teases as he strips down to his night robes and climbs in next to Aang. It’s a snug fit with two grown men — the bed was certainly intended for no more than one occupant at a time. Still, it only meant they had to press close together, and Zuko certainly wasn’t complaining.

“It is soft, you have to admit,” Aang teases back when their chests are flush against each other, their legs linking beneath the quilt.

Zuko chuckles as he leans in to capture Aang’s lips in an unhurried kiss, the first since they’d parted in the morning. As he breathes Aang in, he feels like his inner fire flickers and brightens inside him.

They pull close to each other but are careful to keep their contact innocent. There seemed to be a wordless agreement between them to take things slow. It felt natural to enjoy each other’s company leisurely, to learn these new things about each other as romantic partners while being friends. As Zuko loses himself in the softness of Aang’s lips against his, he’s pleased to realize that even though his relationship with Aang had undeniably evolved, the core of their relationship hadn't changed all that drastically. They still talked to each other with the same ease, just that now they held hands and kissed as well. 

When their lips are as tired as they are, Zuko turns on his side and feels Aang scoot up close behind him, wrapping a strong arm around his chest and holding him close as he presses sweet kisses to the back of his neck.

Zuko unconsciously syncs his breathing to Aang's on his neck, and in a matter of moments he descends into peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these two, guys. ;w;


End file.
